A Shift in Perspective
by Persiflage
Summary: The Tenth Doctor goes missing and it's up to Martha Jones to track him down again, but it proves both harder and more instructive than she expects. First posted on my LJ
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Shift in Perspective (1/10)

Author: Persiflage_1

Characters/Pairings: Martha Jones, Third Doctor, Jo Grant, Torchwood Team

Rating: G

Spoilers: Day of the Daleks, The Green Death

Summary: The Tenth Doctor goes missing and it's up to Martha Jones to track him down again, but it proves both harder and more instructive than she expects.

Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!

Author Notes: This is the first chapter in a ten chapter story that's set a couple of months after Season 4. Ages ago the Doctor Who Random Pairing generator gave me "Martha Jones / Sgt Benton / A Shift in Perspective" and for a while I thought I was going to write a timey-wimey fic where Martha meets Benton, but then the idea of Ten going missing and Martha having to track him down, and encountering all his other incarnations along the way, came up.

Many thanks to my Beta readers for this chapter: lj user=laura_luvage, lj user=ladymako71 and most especially lj user=shadow_turquoise, who has done sterling work in making sure this didn't utterly suck!

* * * * * *

Martha's first jump using Jack's Vortex Manipulator landed her in a large study, and was greeted by a female shriek of alarm that made her wince. She looked up into a pair of sharp eyes that were topped by a shock of grey-white hair, and took in a beaky nose and an impression of ruffles before the man spoke.

"Steady Jo. Now then young woman, you aren't quite what I was expecting."

Martha blinked in puzzlement as she straightened up properly and took in a few more details of the room and its occupants.

"You were expecting me?" she asked, confused.

"You, or someone like you," he answered, rubbing a long forefinger across his lips as he considered her thoughtfully.

"Does that mean you know how to get back to your own time then Doctor?"

The young blonde woman, Jo presumably, who was standing next to the brown leather sofa where the Doctor sat, gave a tiny gasp.

"You know who he is?" she asked, sounding surprised.

Martha shrugged one shoulder. "The Vortex Manipulator is programmed to find the Doctor," she said, "so I assumed this was him. Although I – "

"The what?" interrupted the Doctor in a sharp tone.

"Vortex Manipulator," Martha answered, pulling up her sleeve a short way and showing him the bulky device strapped to her wrist.

"Doctor, this isn't the person who came to assassinate Sir Reginald last night, is it?" asked Jo, sounding doubtful.

"Whoa!" exclaimed Martha. "Who said anything about assassination? I just came to find the Doctor, although not _this_ Doctor." She turned to the watching Time Lord. "I presume you're an earlier incarnation of him?"

"You seem remarkable well-informed, and well-equipped," the Doctor observed. "Suppose you tell me what you are doing here, and when my people began handing out devices that can manipulate the Time Vortex?"

"Do you mind if I sit down?" Martha asked. "Only this could take a while."

He gestured to a brown leather armchair opposite the sofa and she sank down gratefully.

"Jo, why don't you get our visitor – I'm sorry, I don't know your name?"

"Martha, Dr Martha Jones."

"Why don't you get Martha a cup of tea?" suggested the Doctor. "I'm sure she would be glad of it."

Martha nodded agreement, noting the fleeting look of surprise that crossed Jo's face before she spoke. "Very well." She crossed the room and went out.

Martha judged by Jo's outfit that she'd arrived in the 1970s – the knee-high white leather boots, short blue denim skirt with a bib, and the red-checked, short-sleeved shirt wouldn't have looked very out of place in 1969, she thought. But the Doctor looked very out of place in his red velvet jacket, white shirt with ruffles at the throat and wrists, and bow tie. Yet, at the same time, he looked at home somehow, rather like her own Doctor so often did, despite his clothes being out of place.

"I believe you were going to explain your presence here?" he asked, his manner courteous yet firm, which convinced her that he fully intended to have the answers before he let her go.

She rubbed a hand over her face, marshalling her thoughts before she spoke. "I'm from the early 21st century. The Doctor came to Cardiff where I was visiting Jack, another of your future travelling companions. We were catching up on each other's news when Jack suddenly stopped the Doctor in the middle of an anecdote about a prince and a lizard…"

**Several hours ago, relative time**

"Hang on." He put a finger to his ear where Martha knew he wore an earpiece that connected him to his phone, and thence to the Hub.

The Doctor gave him a quizzical look, then glanced at Martha's intent expression.

"What is it?" he asked her softly as Jack spoke to someone in the Hub.

"Gwen or Ianto must have called him," she said, looking slightly anxious. He slipped his hand into hers and she looked over at him, noticing a fleeting expression of concern cross his face as he waited for Jack to finish his call.

"Gwen says she's picking up some unusual signals on the Rift Monitor," Jack told them. "She thinks something might be trying to come through."

"We'd better go and have a look then," the Doctor said, suddenly brisk and business-like, despite his loosened tie and two unfastened shirt buttons.

Jack shrugged and they followed the Time Lord out of the kitchen and back through the TARDIS. The Doctor grabbed his coat and pulled it on, then opened the door.

"Where's the signal strongest?" he asked once they were in the Plass.

"About 300 yards that way," Jack answered, pointing towards the Bay.

"Did Gwen say if there was any indication of what it is?" asked Martha. "Is it animate or inanimate?"

"She didn't know."

"Let's find out then." The Time Lord strode off and his two companions hurried after him as he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and activated it.

They hadn't gone that far when there was a burst of blinding yellow light ahead of them, and they all stopped walking, Jack's hand hovering near his gun, and the Doctor's arm outstretched as he panned the sonic around. They watched warily as a tall, humanoid figure in dark clothes stepped out of mid-air and into the street. The light faded behind the figure and they could see that its face was obscured by a hood that was pulled up over its head, making it impossible to distinguish whether it was human or alien, male or female.

Jack touched Martha's shoulder briefly then stepped slightly in front of her as she heard footsteps hurrying up behind them. She turned quickly, thinking it was civilians who would be safer if they were discouraged from approaching, but found Gwen and Ianto instead.

She turned back again and saw the Doctor had moved nearer to the humanoid.

"Who are you and what do you want here?" he asked loudly.

"You are the individual known as the Doctor?" asked the figure in a low voice that was almost a growl.

"I am. What do you want?" asked the Time Lord warily.

"Only you." The figure's hand shot out and beams of blue light flew forwards and lassoed around the Doctor's body as if they were ropes.

"No!" yelled Jack, rushing forwards as the Time Lord cried out in shock.

"Jack don't!" Martha shouted, seeing the figure raising its other arm. Her warning was too late, however, and the immortal man was struck by a separate beam of blue light which threw him thirty feet across the Plass over their heads. He crashed into one of the pillars around the edge of the plaza, and Martha heard both Gwen and Ianto cry out in horror, but she focused her attention on the Doctor and the being which held him prisoner.

The Time Lord was struggling desperately to free himself, but each movement he made simply sent a shock through his body and she began to wonder if the figure, whoever it was, intended to kill him.

"What do you want with him?" she shouted.

"Revenge," growled the figure. "My master seeks revenge."

Before Martha could ask any more questions, the figure jerked its arm back, pulling the Doctor forward and as the two were about to collide, there was another burst of brilliant light, and when it had vanished, the Time Lord and the figure were both gone.

**Now**

By the end of Martha's narrative, the Doctor's eyebrows were raised in a thoughtful manner. "And the device, this Vortex Manipulator?"

"I don't know much about it, I'm afraid. It belongs to Jack. We programmed it to track your psychokinetic energy and I hoped it would take me straight to you, I mean, the incarnation of you that I know."

Before the Doctor could answer, the study door opened and Jo came bustling in, almost spilling the contents of the tray she carried in her hurry.

"Thank you my dear."

He smiled at her, and Martha immediately noticed Jo's expression softening in response, and she realised that some things about the Doctor apparently never changed, no matter what his outward appearance: he clearly inspired a certain level of devotion in his companions. She tucked that thought away for later consideration, then answered Jo's questions about how much milk and sugar she wanted in her tea.

She took the cup and saucer that Jo passed to the Doctor for her, and took a grateful mouthful while noting more details of the study where they sat: there was a plainly furnished desk near one wall, with a green shaded lamp on top and a large painting dominating the wall behind it. A silver, three-branched candelabra was on top of the table where Jo was making the tea, together with a narrow blue telephone. There were pairs of long curtains closed over what Martha guessed were French windows, and there was a globe in a free-standing wooden frame on the other side of the sofa.

When Martha brought her attention back to the Doctor she saw he was smiling at her. "What do you think?"

"It doesn't seem very you," she answered honestly.

His smile broadened. "That is because it is not mine," he told her. "This is Auderly House, home of Sir Reginald Styles."

"Sir Reginald? That's who you thought I'd come to assassinate," Martha said. "Why did you think that?"

"Last night an intruder broke into the house, despite the presence of an armed guard of UNIT soldiers." Martha couldn't help starting in surprise at that, and she saw that the Doctor had noticed her reaction. "The intruder attempted to kill Sir Reginald before vanishing 'like a ghost'."

"And you thought I'd come to make a second attempt?" she asked, not quite believing the implications.

The Doctor nodded. "Since you suddenly appeared out of thin air, and in the very room where the intruder is known to have disappeared so dramatically last night, Jo naturally jumped to the conclusion that you were here to make a second attempt."

"Naturally," Martha answered dryly. She couldn't really fault Jo for making such an assumption, but she felt rather glad she'd arrived inside the house, rather than outside if the grounds were full of UNIT men; she knew they'd be inclined to shoot first and ask questions later if there had already been one assassination attempt here.

"I noticed that when I mentioned UNIT, you seemed to recognise the name," the Doctor observed, before drinking more of his tea.

"I work for them, I'm a Medical Officer."

"Interesting. So you are both soldier and healer."

"Oh, I'm not a soldier, not really. I'm employed as a civilian," Martha said quickly.

"Yet you have the military habit of observation and watchfulness. I am quite sure you could describe the contents and occupants of this room in considerable detail, if necessary."

She felt her face freeze for a moment, before she forced herself to smile. "A good doctor should be observant."

He gave her a slightly sceptical look, but didn't contradict her. Instead he changed the subject, rubbing a long forefinger against the side of his mouth and looking thoughtful. "The description you give of the being who took my future self does not recall anyone that I have encountered so far."

"Never mind. Hopefully the next time I jump, I'll find my Doctor."

"And if you don't?" asked Jo, looking concerned.

"If I don't, I'll just keep looking for him until I do find him," Martha said determinedly. "I can't just sit by and do nothing."

The Doctor nodded his understanding. "Have you eaten lately? Travelling in the Vortex unprotected by a vessel will exhaust you."

Martha shook her head. "I hadn't even thought about food."

"Well why don't you and Jo go and see what is in the kitchen? You should take some rations with you, apples or pears, since they're naturally high in sugar. It would be best not to take soft fruit as it probably won't withstand the pressures in the Vortex."

"Thank you." Martha stood up, and moved forward to shake hands with him, then followed Jo out of the study, through the house to the kitchen.

"Aren't you at all scared?" asked Jo as she pointed out the fruit bowl on the kitchen table, then opened some cupboards in search of bread and the makings of a sandwich for Martha.

"Pretty scared, actually," the young Doctor answered as she pocketed some of the fruit. "But I've got to get him back. You must understand that?"

Jo looked up in surprise from the cupboard she was peering into. "What do you mean?"

"Well you know how important the Doctor is to Earth, don't you? How he keeps stopping aliens from invading, or if they do invade, he talks them out of staying?" Jo nodded. "Well then. Besides, if your Doctor was in trouble, wouldn't you do everything in your power to help him?"

"Of course," she answered instantly.

"I thought so. Well it's the same for me. I may not travel with him full time now I'm working for UNIT, but I still care about him and I know we need him back."

She sat down and watched Jo making her a cheese sandwich, thinking about what she had just said. She did care a great deal about the Doctor – they'd been through too much together for him not to be very important to her still, and she loved him: not in that silly school-girl crush way like before, but on a much deeper level. And while he might not say so, Martha was fairly sure the Doctor cared about her too: it was there in the little things he did, more than the things he said, though the pride in his voice when he addressed her as 'Dr Jones' spoke volumes to her. Even her mum didn't sound that proud of her medical degree.

"Are you okay?" asked Jo, interrupting her reverie as she offered Martha the sandwich she'd made.

"Yes, thanks." She picked it up and took a hungry bite.

"You looked as if you were miles away then," she said.

Martha nodded, then swallowed before answering. "Miles and years, actually. It's a bad habit of mine sometimes."

Jo grinned at her. "Mine too, the Doctor gets a bit exasperated by me sometimes."

Martha laughed. "And of course, _he_ never does anything exasperating, does he?"

"Oh no!" agreed Jo, with a roll of her eyes and a mischievous giggle before she began to tell Martha about her first encounter with the Doctor.

"I knocked on the door of his lab and went in, and he told me 'Not today thank you', I didn't know it at the time but he'd assumed it was the tea lady knocking. So I peered around the door, feeling a bit nervous, because he sounded a bit stern, but before I could even begin to introduce myself properly, he interrupted me again. I sort of hesitated half way between the door and his workbench, not quite sure what I should do, because the Brigadier had sent me to see the Doctor and given me a file to show him. He was quite focused on his experiment, and I didn't really like to interrupt, but then it started smoking and so I threw the file onto the end of the workbench and grabbed the fire extinguisher to put out the blaze."

"Was he grateful?" asked Martha, somehow certain he hadn't been.

"Oh not a bit of it. He started going on about how I'd ruined it, that it was three months' of delicate work completely ruined. He called me 'ham-fisted' and when I pointed out that the whole lab might have gone up, he started talking about 'steady state micro-welding' and engineers with 'nine opposable digits', almost as if he was trying to blind me with science. Of course he wasn't really, he just assumes everyone knows what he's talking about all the time. He was really quite cross though, and when I told him that I was his new assistant, he was pretty horrified." She looked thoughtful. "Which wasn't surprising, I suppose, since I'd just destroyed three months' work in one blast of the fire extinguisher. So then I tried to impress him, telling him I was a fully qualified agent, that I know cryptology, safe-breaking and explosives. But he wasn't very impressed. He asked if I was trained in fire-fighting, and then told me he needed a scientist." She shook her head. "He was very cross and appallingly rude," Jo confided.

"He sounds it!" Martha said.

Once she'd finished eating, she recounted her own first meeting, with the Time Lord taking off his tie in front of her in the street, and then the business with the Plasmavore and the Judoon.

"What's he look like?" asked Jo curiously when Martha had finished.

"Over six foot tall, and very skinny. He's got brown eyes and crazy, wild brown hair that he has a habit of ruffling when he's frustrated or thinking." She smiled in reminiscence. "He usually wears a two piece suit with a shirt and tie, and baseball boots and a long brown coat."

"He sounds a bit dishy," Jo said dreamily.

"In a skinny, geeky sort of way," Martha agreed. She pushed aside her plate, then got to her feet. "Thanks for the tea and the sandwich. I really ought to be moving on now."

Jo got up too and moved around the table to Martha's side. "You are welcome. Good luck with finding the Doctor, your Doctor. Take care of yourself." She reached out to pat Martha's hand, and found herself being hugged instead.

"Take care of yourself too," Martha said, "and him."

She let go of Jo, waved, then fiddled with the device on her wrist, disappearing moments later in a vortex of light that left Jo blinking.

* * * * * *

When Martha arrived at her next destination she had barely caught her breath from the jump when a car horn sounded urgently behind her, and a bright yellow car swerved to a halt a short distance away. She realised, rather belatedly, that she had arrived at dusk on a country road.

The driver's door opened and a tall man climbed out, hurrying towards her.

"What do you think you are doing, standing in the middle of the road?" he demanded as he approached. Then he got close enough to see the person he was berating and Martha saw him start in surprise.

"Hello again Doctor," Martha said, trying to hide her disappointment as she recognised this was the same incarnation she had just met.

"Dr Jones, what are you doing here, in the middle of the Welsh countryside?"

"The same thing I was doing the last time we met," she answered. "Is Jo with you?" She looked past him at the empty car, then back at his face, and even in the dim light she could see the pained expression on his face. Instinctively she reached out to touch his arm. "She's okay, isn't she?"

He gave her a brief nod. "Come on, let's get you out of the road," he said, heading back towards his car.

"This is Bessie," he told her, holding the door open for her to climb in, and she noted the fondness in his voice, something she was used to hearing in her Doctor's voice as he talked of the TARDIS.

"Very nice," she commented. "I never knew you had a car."

He shrugged. "I've only had her since I've been stuck here."

Martha recalled the files she'd been given to read not long after she had joined UNIT: the reports on the Doctor's involvement with the organisation. She remembered he'd been exiled to Earth by the Time Lords, although the report in question was vague about the reasons why.

"I take it your presence here means you are no further forward in your quest?" he asked, pulling away once he was sure she was settled comfortably.

"No, I'm not. In fact, I've just left you at Sir Reginald Styles' house on the night you were expecting an unknown assassin to turn up."

"Ah, I think I know what the problem is," he said thoughtfully. "I should have recalibrated your Vortex Manipulator so it only finds me once in any body. If I don't, your task will take considerably longer, since I have spent a fair amount of time on Earth. You could waste a good deal of time encountering the same body over and over again, particularly at this stage in my life."

"That would be – inconvenient," Martha said, knowing this was an understatement.

"And very frustrating, especially if you were to keep running into my previous self."

Martha's eyebrows rose at the Doctor's disparaging tone. "What's wrong with your previous self?" she asked curiously. The Doctor she knew had never really talked about his earlier incarnations.

"He's a foolish little fellow, little better than a space hobo," he answered crossly, "always fussing and fidgeting about in an embarrassing manner."

"Oh." She wasn't quite sure what to make of his tirade, and sought wildly for another topic of conversation. "How's Jo? I was surprised not to see her with you."

"She's fine. She's moved on."

Martha's eyes had adjusted sufficiently for her to see the tension in his arms as he held the steering wheel, and she could hear pain in his voice. She laid a hand on his arm a second time, absently noting he was wearing a red and green checked cape. "Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked gently. She knew her own Doctor wasn't given to emotional conversations, except when he was prodded into them, but she had no idea if that was a common personality trait for all his incarnations.

"Not now," he answered. "Why don't you tell me about your work with UNIT?" I would be interested to learn what the organisation is like in the future."

"Is that a good idea?" she asked. "I mean, wouldn't it be dangerous for you to have knowledge of their future?"

"I am adept at making myself forget things," he assured her. "Is Lethbridge-Stewart still around?"

Martha smiled in the darkness: there seemed to be the same tone of exasperated affection in his voice as she had heard in Sir Alistair's on the one occasion she'd had the chance to talk to him about the Doctor.

**Two days after the attempted Sontaran invasion**

"Now see here, Mace, this won't do at all!"

Martha hesitated outside Colonel Mace's office, hearing the stern voice berating him in crisp, military tones. She thought that she probably shouldn't interrupt them: her report wasn't that urgent, just some preliminary findings on the Sontaran teleportation technology for Project Indigo. She began to back away from the door as quietly as possible.

"Please Sir Alistair, if you'll just let me explain."

_Sir Alistair?_ thought Martha, shocked, and paying less attention than she should have, she backed herself with a crash into a filing cabinet standing near the Colonel's office.

The door immediately flew open and an imposing figure with grey-white hair, a moustache and beard hurried out.

"You there, girl, what was that noise?" he barked, bearing down on Martha with a fierce expression.

She swallowed. "Me Sir, sorry Sir. I bumped into the cabinet."

He stood over her, a slightly portly man with an intimidating air, but she stood straight, making direct eye contact with him; she'd faced down the Master, so she was determined she could face the legendary Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart without quailing.

"You're the new civilian MO: Jones, isn't it?" he asked.

Martha felt her mouth start to drop open and snapped it shut again, then offered him a crisp salute. "Yes Sir!"

A corner of his mouth twitched. "No need for that, Dr Jones. If what I've heard is true, I should be saluting you." He stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders, looking at her with an expression of pride.

"You did an excellent job of defeating the Master. I'm very proud of you, proud to have you working as a member of this organisation."

Martha stared at him in astonishment, feeling tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. His praise meant almost as much to her as the Doctor's – more in some respects. "Thank you," she whispered, finding her voice.

"Come on, let's find ourselves a quiet corner and you can tell me all about this new Doctor I missed seeing."

She was aware of Mace standing outside his office, a look of surprise on his face, but he didn't object when Sir Alistair took her hand and pulled her arm through the crook of his, then led her away.

"Have you got an office?"

"Yes Sir."

"Now, now. None of that Sir nonsense. You must call me Alistair," he told her.

"Thank you S- Alistair."

They spent two hours talking, over tea and biscuits, of the Doctor and the various aliens they had encountered. By the time he was ready to go back to Mace, taking Martha's report with him, she had decided that she respected him as much as the Doctor, more in some ways.

She was also acutely aware of the fact that he regarded Iher/I with respect, which she found both flattering and humbling, especially when he saluted her as he said goodbye.

"I shall be watching your career with considerable interest, Dr Jones. I predict great things for you."

"Thank you Sir – Alistair," she amended when he raised an eyebrow at her.

**Now**

"The Brigadier's semi-retired now," Martha told the Doctor. "He's a Sir."

"Is he now? Hmm. Well, I daresay he's earned it. He's a good chap at heart, even if he is too inclined to shoot first and ask questions later."

She grinned in the darkness. "He admitted to me that he was a trifle trigger-happy when he first found out about aliens."

The Doctor made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. "A trifle? Yes, quite."

Martha chose not to comment on his reaction, but began to talk to him about UNIT in the 21st century, explaining that they tried to investigate potential aliens before the public could find out about them.

"We try to use diplomacy before we send in the men and women with guns. Of course, that doesn't always work – or events escalate far quicker than anyone can anticipate." She thought back, briefly, to the business with the Sontarans, and how they'd lost control of the initiative then.

"I am glad to hear that diplomacy plays a part," the Doctor said. "Perhaps Lethbridge-Stewart and the others will learn something from me after all."

She made a noise of agreement, but privately Martha wondered if at least part of the reason was that UNIT were far more aware of Torchwood's practices and didn't want to be lumped in with them, particularly when Torchwood One had been operating. Then there had been that business a few years before she had joined UNIT, with ICIS: they had succeeded in tarnishing UNIT's reputation in a couple of instances. Sir Alistair had given her permission to access his files and she had been horrified to read the accounts of ICIS' operations, particularly with regard to the imprisonment of one Toshiko Sato, whom they had allowed to believe had been captured by UNIT themselves. Martha had taken that bit of news very hard indeed, even as she had realised that it had explained Tosh's reluctance to have much to do with her when she'd been down in Cardiff working with Jack's team.

Martha pulled herself out of reverie and noticed they were approaching a village or hamlet: the number of lights she could see indicated that it was somewhere smaller than a town.

"It's a long drive from Wales to London, especially in the dark," the Doctor said, "so I thought I'd stop for a meal and a break. Would you care to join me?"

"Yes please." While it wasn't that long, relatively speaking, since Jo had made her that cheese sandwich, she still felt hungry enough to want to eat.

"Good. We will try the pub." So saying, the Doctor drove into the village square with its central war memorial, then pulled up outside the pub.

Martha climbed out of the car feeling a little stiff, and gratefully accepted the Doctor's arm when he offered it.

The pub was well lit, but not too busy or noisy, and pleasantly warm. Although the temperature outside was reasonable, travelling in an open-topped car with the wind rushing over her had left Martha feeling chilled, so she immediately wandered over to the large fireplace and stretched her hands out to the fire blazing there.

The Doctor had headed straight for the bar, but he joined her soon afterwards to tell her that they would be eating soon. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable?" he suggested, nodding at a nearby table, "and I'll fetch some drinks."

"Thanks." Martha unfastened her jacket and moved towards the table.

"What do you want to drink?" asked the Doctor as he shed his driving cape to reveal a blue velvet jacket, a red waistcoat, a blue shirt with ruffles, and a red bow tie above his black trousers.

"Something non-alcoholic, please."

"Lemonade?" he suggested and she nodded, knowing this was the wrong era for most of the things she normally preferred to drink.

Martha took the Doctor's cape and draped it over the back of a chair, then sat down. She had noticed that most of the locals had enjoyed a good stare before going back to their own concerns, and she wondered briefly if they considered her an exotic foreigner with her dark skin and different clothes. She couldn't help recalling another pub she'd sat in, and the rather different way in which Shakespeare had reacted to her presence, despite the considerably larger gap between his time period and hers.

The Doctor set a glass down in front of her and she pushed her thoughts aside before thanking him.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly as he settled into a chair beside her. "You seem very pensive."

"Sorry. I think I had forgotten what it felt like to be out of my own time."

He reached across and patted her hand as she toyed with the corner of her beer mat. "I am sure you will get used to it again, my dear."

"I'll have to if I'm to get my Doctor back," she said simply.

"That reminds me. You had better let me have your travel gadget so I can recalibrate it."

"Oh yes, of course. Thank you." Martha unstrapped the Vortex Manipulator and passed it to the Time Lord. He slipped a hand inside his jacket, pulled out his sonic screwdriver, and began fiddling with its settings. He had just finished adjusting the settings on the Vortex Manipulator when the barmaid approached with a tray of food, and Martha quickly pocketed the device before it could cause any comment.

"Thank you my dear." The Doctor smiled at the barmaid as she put down and unloaded the tray.

Martha inhaled the scent of the thick stew and fresh bread that she'd brought with a sense of anticipation, and accepted the bowlful that she was offered with eagerness.

"Thanks. That looks and smells good."

He nodded, and then they began to eat in a companionable silence. She made herself concentrate wholly on enjoying the food, not allowing herself to worry about the task she had set herself.

Once they had eaten, the Doctor suggested adjourning to the snug, having established from the barmaid that it was currently unoccupied.

"We shall be able to talk more privately in there," he said.

"Okay."

They took their drinks through into the smaller room and settled themselves side by side on one of the big padded benches near the fireplace.

"I would like to know more about how you end up travelling with me," he said.

So Martha told him all about the Judoon and the Plasmavore, and her unexpected trip to the Moon.

"And that gave you the urge to travel in Time and Space, did it?" the Doctor asked once Martha had finished explaining about arriving back on Earth.

"Not really," she answered. "I thought it was just a one-off, never-to-be-repeated experience until you, the later you, that is, turned up and chatted me up."

"He chatted you up?" repeated the Doctor, sounding rather incredulous.

She nodded. "I'd just left the pub where my brother Leo's 21st birthday party had been held, and he was leaning on the corner of a building opposite, grinning at me. Then he offered to take me on 'just one trip' to thank me for saving his life, and so he could road-test his new sonic screwdriver."

"Humph."

Martha thought the Doctor seemed less than impressed with his later incarnation's behaviour, and decided to change the subject.

"So how did you meet Jo?" She had heard the story from Jo already, but she wanted to hear his side of the encounter too.

He hesitated for a moment before telling her, freely admitting that he'd been initially unimpressed with her after first mistaking her for the tea lady. He talked about her irrepressible cheerfulness, her courage and her friendliness.

"She's a steady girl, even if she does sometimes rush in blindly – but she always means well. And sometimes she completely ignores my instructions and goes off quietly to do just what she meant to do all along."

Martha smiled, noting the fondness in his voice.

"But she's gone off to marry some Professor and go off exploring in the Amazon willy-nilly." He sounded proud but bemused as well, as if he hadn't quite got used to the idea that she'd chosen some other man than himself to spend her time with.

Martha couldn't help thinking that in some things, the Doctor never seemed to change. The incarnation she knew had still seemed slightly bemused by the idea that she preferred to remain on Earth, working for UNIT, rather than jaunting around the universe with him, even though they'd met up three times since she'd first walked out of the TARDIS after that year she'd walked the world.

"We can't stay with you forever," she said softly. "You live for centuries, we're lucky to manage just one, most of us."

"I know. It's just that I was not expecting her to go so suddenly."

He looked a little forlorn and after a moment Martha put her hand over his where it rested on the table next to his empty glass: she wasn't sure he'd appreciate the gesture, but she felt too much sympathy with him not to make it. After a minute or two, he reached across and patted the top of her hand with his free one.

"You'll find someone else to travel with," she told him as he moved his hands away. "You always do."

She had suddenly remembered that Sarah Jane had travelled with this incarnation, and wondered just when that had happened. They'd had a long talk one afternoon about regeneration and the fact that Sarah had known three incarnations of the Doctor, including one who wore velvet jackets and ruffled shirts, which much surely be this Doctor, because she had described the other one as being 'all teeth and curls' and always wearing an incredibly long scarf.

"You're right, of course, my dear." He smiled down at her. "In other circumstances, I might have asked you to travel with me, but you've more important things to do."

Martha nodded. "And I really ought to be going soon," she said. "I've enjoyed talking with you. If you speak to Jo again, please give her my best wishes for her married life. Thank you for your help, and for the meal."

"It's been a pleasure. Thank you for your company." He shook hands firmly. "Travel safely my dear." He kissed her forehead quickly, then got up and went out.

"Goodbye Doctor," she said quietly, then she reprogrammed the controls on the Vortex Manipulator, and jumped through Time and Space to search for her Doctor.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: A Shift in Perspective

Author: Persiflage_1

Characters/Pairings: Martha Jones, Ninth Doctor

Rating: G

Spoilers: Rose, Season 3

Summary: The Tenth Doctor goes missing and it's up to Martha Jones to track him down again, but it proves both harder and more instructive than she expects.

Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!

* * * * * *

Martha staggered as she landed after the jump from Wales, and she leaned against a wall, eyes closed as she caught her breath; travelling via Jack's Vortex Manipulator didn't get any less nauseating, she'd found. She opened her eyes and found that wherever or whenever she'd arrived, it was dark and after a moment she realised that she was somewhere up high: she could see lights below her, enough for a large city.

She pushed herself away from the wall and walked forward, wondering where the Doctor was, and just what he was doing on a city rooftop.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded a voice angrily, his Northern accent clearly audible even in those few words. "And what are you doing up here?"

Before she could answer, a large hand was grasping Martha's shoulder in a tight grip and she was tugged towards the edge of the roof where there was more light.

"Martha Jones," she answered quickly, looking up into the stormy face above her and noting the short cropped hair and large ears above his dark clothes. "I'm looking for you, Doctor, well not you exactly."

His glare intensified and she hurried to explain. "I'm one of your companions, and the incarnation of you that I know has gone missing. I'm trying to track you, well him, down."

"Rubbish, I don't have any companions! Stupid apes, always getting under foot and causing trouble."

She glowered at him, even as her mind raced to work out how to convince him; it hadn't occurred to her that her story wouldn't be believed.

"You're a Time Lord from Gallifrey, and you travel through Time and Space in a ship called the TARDIS, which looks like a big blue Police Box on the outside, but is infinitely huge on the inside. She's got coral support struts throughout the Control Room, and the light in there is a green-gold colour. She always hums a greeting at you when you go inside after being away."

He looked at her, and she knew that he knew there was no way she could know all of that if she hadn't been inside the ship.

"Well you can't stay here," he told her roughly, "I'm just about to blow up this thing," he gestured to a large electronic device in one corner, "so get down to the street. If I survive, you can talk to me afterwards."

Martha glared at him. "If you think I'm going to leave you up here on your own, you've got another think coming mister."

"Cheeky ape!" he exclaimed; even in the semi-darkness she could see sparks of anger in his eyes.

She folded her arms across her chest and glared again. "Arrogant Time Lord," she retorted.

He grinned madly, with an abrupt change of mood that startled her. "Not bad," he said, before spinning around and hurrying across the rooftop to the device. Martha followed him closely, wondering what he was up to.

She watched as he quickly wired a bomb, which he'd pulled from the pocket of his leather jacket, onto the side of the device, and made some adjustments with precise, delicate tweaks of the controls; she noted absently that his fingers weren't quite as long or slender as those of the Doctor she knew, but they still moved deftly.

The next moment he sprang up and grabbed her elbow, then slid his hand down to grasp hers.

"Run?" she suggested, half smiling up at him.

"Run," he agreed happily, pulling her forward.

They'd barely gone half a dozen paces towards the lit doorway on the other side of the roof, when Martha caught her foot on something she hadn't seen in the darkness, and the Doctor staggered with her as she struggled to keep her feet.

"Clumsy ape!" he yelled, even as he turned and grabbed her around the waist, hauling her bodily towards the doorway. They were still a couple of paces away when there was a dull bang behind them, and the force of the explosion threw them both off their feet and into the wall beside the door.

Martha opened her eyes a few moments later with a groan, her whole body aching. The Doctor lay unmoving beside her and she bit back a cry, trying not to panic at the thought that she might have got him killed at the wrong point in his personal timeline. She worriedly felt for his pulse and was deeply relieved when she found both hearts beating steadily in his neck.

A moment later he gave a quiet groan.

"Can you move?" she asked, aware of the approaching emergency services whose sirens were cutting through the night with shrill insistence.

The Doctor groaned a second time and she watched as he gingerly moved onto his hands and knees, eyes screwed shut in pain.

"Remind me why I bother saving you stupid apes?" he asked through clenched teeth. "Well?" he barked, when she didn't immediately answer.

"I don't know, I'm sure," Martha retorted, irritated by his repeated references to apes. "We need to get out of here before the emergency services find us and start asking awkward questions. Can you walk?"

He carefully picked himself up, stifling further groans, and she watched anxiously, noting his wince when he put his weight on his right leg. She wondered where he'd left the TARDIS, knowing it would be better to take him there than to a hospital.

"Well don't just stand there, you stupid ape, help me!" he snarled.

Martha scowled, but she moved to his side and allowed him to drape his right arm around her shoulders so he could take some of his weight off his leg, then helped him through the doorway onto the narrow stairs.

They made it down to the top floor of the building, and the Doctor directed her towards the lift, into which they manoeuvred themselves with a little difficulty.

"Where's the TARDIS?" Martha asked as they reached the ground floor and she helped him out of the lift, then across to a fire exit.

"Down the street, on the right," he answered.

As they moved away, Martha glanced back at the building and saw it was Henricks, which told her exactly when and where she was: she clearly remembered hearing about the explosion at the department store a few years ago; at the time no one had been able to explain what had caused it, but now she knew. She pushed the thought aside, knowing it wasn't relevant to what she had to do.

They reached the TARDIS and the Doctor began fumbling for his key, but Martha was already pulling hers from the neck of her t-shirt.

"May I?" she asked, and on receiving a weary nod, she unlocked the door and helped him inside.

Martha couldn't help smiling a little at the hum of greeting that filled her head as she helped the Doctor across the Control Room and into the corridor as they headed to the Medical Bay.

"She knows you," he observed as she settled him onto a chair, then quickly pulled off her jacket. "Likes you too, unless I'm out in me reckoning."

"I like her too," Martha responded as she lowered one of the beds, before approaching the Doctor. "Let's see what the damage is, shall we?"

He grumbled under his breath, but allowed her to remove his jacket and shoes before limping over to sit on the bed. He watched her as she scrubbed her hands, then pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

"I found meself another doctor to travel with, then," he observed as she moved back to his side.

"I didn't know you'd previously travelled with other doctors," she commented as she began to examine him with a brisk, professional manner.

"One or two," he answered tersely, biting back a moan as she touched his right shin.

Martha pulled the portable X-ray machine closer. "We need to get your jeans off," she told him impersonally. "I think you've got a fracture, but I need to check."

"Don't cut 'em," he said gruffly, then fumbled with the button and zip. He gave a little grunt as he tried to ease them down, and Martha quickly moved to assist him, pushing aside the slight awkwardness she felt about undressing the Doctor, a feeling she apparently couldn't overcome despite not fancying him any longer.

They got his jeans off between them, and Martha used the X-ray machine to confirm he'd fractured the bone just below his kneecap.

"I know you heal fast, but you're going to have to rest this for at least 48 hours," she told him as she strapped up his leg. "And by rest, I mean put as little weight on it as possible."

"I'll rest after I save the world," he said as he pulled his jeans back up.

"You'll rest it before that," Martha said sternly, "unless you want to be lame for the rest of this incarnation?" He glared at her, but she gave him a bland look. "You're in a time machine, remember? Which means you can come back in five minutes time and yet have been gone for three months if necessary."

The Doctor gave her a grudging smile. "Bossy, ain't you?"

"Someone has to be," she responded, opening a cupboard in the corner and taking out a pair of crutches. "Here. The sooner we get the TARDIS into the Vortex, the sooner you can put your feet up."

He took the crutches from her. "What's this 'we'?" he asked, swinging himself across to the door and out into the corridor.

"I've seen the way you pilot the TARDIS," she reminded him. "You can't do that with a dodgy leg."

"I can manage on me own, have been for some time now, and I certainly don't need some silly ape to help me."

Martha ground her teeth in silent annoyance at his 'ape' remark; he was a bit too fond of that term, she decided. "That's fine when you've got two strong legs to run around the console on," she said, "but at the moment you haven't, so don't be so bloody stubborn."

His only response to that was a grunt.

As she followed him into the Control Room, Martha couldn't help remembering the last time she'd been in here with "her" Doctor, and the amazing experience of helping to pilot the TARDIS with the Doctor, Jack, Sarah Jane, Mickey and Rose; she wished she could tell him about it, but knew she mustn't. She wasn't sure which incarnation she'd found this time, but the glimpses of darkness lurking in the depths of his eyes made her suspect he'd already seen the Time War.

She pushed her thoughts aside, knowing she needed to concentrate on helping the Doctor move the TARDIS off Earth.

Between the two of them they got the TARDIS into the Vortex, after which she chivvied the Doctor, who protested in mutters all the way, to his bedroom. It was dark and almost bare of any personal belongings, and the four-poster bed hadn't been made.

"Sit down," Martha told him, "and I'll make up the bed."

"I can sleep on the mattress," he said gruffly.

"Why be more uncomfortable?" she asked. "Your leg's going to cause you enough discomfort, as well as sleeping in your clothes."

He didn't answer, but she felt him watching her as she swiftly sorted out sheets, pillowcases and blankets, and quickly made the bed.

"How old are you?" he asked abruptly as she plumped up the pillows.

Martha paused for a moment before answering. "Twenty five, nearly twenty six."

"Huh."

"How old are you?" she asked curiously.

He frowned. "Old enough." His manner was forbidding, so Martha didn't push him for a more specific answer; instead she patted the bed and gave him an expectant look.

"Do you always push me around?" he asked grumpily as he settled on the bed.

"No, although I can't help thinking I ought to have done it more often," she answered, darting a laughing look at his stormy expression. She was coming to the conclusion that this Doctor's bark was worse than his bite, and she thought he quite liked the fact that he couldn't intimidate her easily.

"Do you want something to eat? And some tea?" she asked.

"Coffee with milk, but no sugar." There was a little pause before he added "please" in a gruff tone.

"What about food?"

He shrugged. "Don't know what's in the kitchen."

She shook her head in disbelief, then went away to find out.

When Martha returned about twenty minutes later, the Doctor was sitting stiffly in exactly the same position in which she'd left him, looking as if relaxing was something only other people did. She set down the tray she'd brought with her, then moved the bedside table into a more convenient position so he wouldn't have to reach across awkwardly.

"Thanks." For all his earlier lack of interest, Martha noted that the Doctor was sniffing appreciatively at the scents that were wafting from the covered dishes on the tray.

"The kitchen's quite well stocked," she told him, lifting the cover off one of the bowls, before passing it to him with a spoon.

"Is it?" He accepted the bowl of thick vegetable broth, and wasted no time in devouring it and some chunks of bread.

Watching him from the corner of her eye as she ate at a more dignified pace, Martha wondered when he'd last eaten, and when he'd last had a companion to worry about such things as regular meals.

"So why were you looking for me?" asked the Doctor once they'd eaten their fill and were drinking their coffee.

Martha began to explain what had happened to the Doctor she knew, being careful not to mention any names, but after a few minutes he interrupted her.

"This will make more sense if you give me all the details," he told her.

"What about your personal timeline?" she asked anxiously.

"I can get the TARDIS to wipe my memories of meeting you," he assured her.

"Okay." She began again from the beginning, explaining about the Rift in Cardiff, the Torchwood Institute that was situated there, and those who worked for it, then told him what had happened to the Doctor she knew.

"Show me the Vortex device please?" he asked once she'd finished explaining her encounter with his third incarnation in Wales.

Martha pushed up her sleeve and unstrapped the device from her wrist, then handed it to him.

The Doctor gave a soft grunt and she wondered if he recognised it; Jack had told her that he'd first met the Doctor when he had still been a rogue Time Agent. She watched as he pulled his sonic screwdriver from the pocket of his jeans and began to fiddle with the settings on the Vortex Manipulator.

"You realise you could end up running into all of my incarnations before this thing's sufficiently recalibrated to find the version of me you know?" He spoke without looking up from his work.

"I know, but what else can I do?"

He shrugged, then handed back the device. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Neither did your earlier self," Martha said. "So, which one are you? The first one I met told me he was in his third body.

"That dandy?" he scoffed. "All velvet and ruffles, looked a right berk, if you ask me."

She gave him a look, arms folded across her chest and one eyebrow raised.

"This is my ninth body," he told her. "Which one are you travelling with?" He shook his head, then corrected himself. "Which one do you know?"

"Sarah Jane thinks you're in your tenth incarnation now, from what he, you – " she frowned momentarily over her pronoun confusion, "told her."

"I'm glad to know I'll see her again," he said, his normally severe expression lightening a little. "She's been a good friend to me. Like you will be, I think." He spoke reluctantly and Martha looked up in surprise at such a favourable remark from him.

"Don't look so surprised, girl," he said roughly. "How soon until I meet you properly?"

"Not for a few more years from now in my personal timeline," Martha answered, half distracted. She'd been wondering about Rose, and where she fitted in: from what Jack had told her, Rose had travelled with this incarnation of the Doctor as well as the one Martha knew. She was wondering what it would be like to travel with this gruff Northerner who seemed calmer, if more intense, than the Doctor she knew. There was a curious vulnerability about him that made her healer's instincts tingle, and she suddenly wondered how long it had been since the Time War had ended.

"What are you thinking about?" asked the Doctor, sounding curious.

"You," she answered honestly.

He barked a laugh. "Why are you thinking about me? Surely you've more important people to think about? Got a fella, haven't you?" he asked, nodding at her left hand.

Martha fiddled with her engagement ring. "Yeah."

"You don't sound very happy about it," he observed shrewdly. "Not running away are you?"

"Sort of," she admitted as she got up and began gathering up the things from their meal.

"Want to tell me about it?" he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle for once.

"Thought I was just an ape to you?" she asked, picking up the full tray.

He had the grace to look slightly ashamed. "I say things in the heat of anger that I don't always mean," he said.

"No need for me to bore you," Martha answered, going out with the tray before he could answer.

* * * * * *

As she washed up, Martha thought back to the moment when she had stepped down off the train from London at Cardiff station to find a very familiar tall man in a blue greatcoat waiting for her on the platform.

"Hello Jack," she said as he stepped up to her, his arms held wide.

"Martha Jones, my own sweet nightingale," he answered, his grin widening when she momentarily flushed with embarrassment.

She allowed him to envelop her in a bear hug and felt a little of her tension from the previous three days of arguments with Tom slipping away as he strong arms wrapped across her back.

"When are you going to stop with that awful joke?" she asked, wrapping her own arms around him in turn.

"Pretty much never," he answered, "it's just too apt a nickname for you."

She sighed, resigned to his teasing, and felt him kiss the top of her head.

"Come on, let's get you settled at the hotel, then we can catch up at the Hub – the others are waiting to see you again."

They grabbed Martha's bags, then went inside and collected a key card from a receptionist who immediately started patting her hair when Jack walked in. Martha saw him give her a wink and a smile before he led the way over to the lift.

"Friend of yours?" she enquired as they travelled up to the fourth floor to Martha's suite.

"You know me, Martha, I'm a friendly guy," he responded with another wink, opening the door for her.

"Have you slept with everyone in Cardiff?" she asked.

"Not everyone, not yet." He gave her a look that caused her stomach to do an odd sort of flip-flop.

She set down her laptop on the coffee table, deciding not to rise to his bait. "Be good," she told him, shrugging out of her jacket.

"I would be good. I am always good."

"Stop it, Jack," she said, sitting down to take off her boots. "Go and flirt with your friend downstairs while I have a shower, and come back in half an hour.

He straightened up and gave her a salute. "Ma'am."

When Jack returned Martha was feeling clean and considerably more relaxed. She pulled on her boots, then picked up her coat.

The drive to the Hub only took a few minutes, but Jack the opportunity to ask after Martha's family.

"They're all good," she said, "and Mum says you're welcome to come and have dinner next time you're in London."

"I'd love to," Jack said enthusiastically. "Will the lovely Letitia be there as well?"

"And her fella, I expect," Martha answered, watching his face fall for just a moment, before he grinned.

"Think they'd be up for a threesome?" he asked.

"Jack! You're completely incorrigible, aren't you?"

They stepped onto the paving stone of the invisible lift and Jack slipped his arm around her to hold her steady as it started to descend.

"Okay?" he asked as they sank below the level of the pavement and she saw Myfanwy flying around below them.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed a little breathlessly. "This is amazing!" She knew about the invisible lift, but she hadn't used it the last time she'd been at the Hub, and she felt a little spurt of excitement, just like she did whenever she opened the TARDIS door after the ship arrived somewhere new.

He grinned at her excitement, then pointed out Gwen and Ianto, who were watching them descend. She waved at them both, and Gwen waved back, while Ianto nodded, and Martha felt a pang of grief at the thought of Tosh and Owen, and wondered how the surviving members of the team were coping on a day-to-day basis.

The bump of the paving stone as it reached its destination shook Martha from her reverie, and she stepped off the lift to greet Gwen and Ianto properly. The latter looked slightly surprised when Martha grabbed him for a hug, but she noticed he was smiling when she released him.

"Have you done anything about finding another doctor?" Martha asked as they settled into chairs on either side of his desk.

"Not yet," Jack answered, "it's not as if I can run an ad in the local paper: Wanted, one doctor to work for top-secret alien-fighting organisation."

She laughed softly and Jack grinned. "Of course, you could always come and join us."

Martha rolled her eyes. "Jack, I've already told you, the last three times you asked me, that I'm not joining Torchwood."

"Not even to help out an old friend?"

She sighed. "I'm sorry, Jack, but I really can't. Don't get me wrong, I like you guys, but you can't offer me any career development, and your staff mortality rate is frankly terrifying." She didn't tell him that she also thought the Doctor might disown her, and while she was definitely over the Doctor and her own woman to boot, she did still value his good opinion.

"You can't blame me for asking," he said, leaning across his desk to clasp her hands in his, "not when I know how much of an asset you'd be to the team."

She squeezed his fingers. "I don't blame you for asking," she assured him, "but the answer is still 'no thank you'."

"You're a tough nut to crack," he joked, "but maybe one day I'll woo you."

She laughed. "You can try."

After that Ianto had taken her to see Cardiff Castle, she had chattered to Gwen about her family history, and then she had gone out for dinner with Jack. She had wanted to spend some time with each of them to reassure herself that they were coming to terms with losing Tosh and Owen, however slowly.

* * * * * *

When Martha returned from doing the washing up, the Doctor had a scowl on his face and she wondered if she'd upset him, but then decided that was silly since they barely knew each other and there was no reason for him to care if she didn't want to confide in him. He was probably just annoyed at her for insisting that he rest his leg; she well remembered her own Doctor's dislike of being told to do things he didn't want to do, and she had a shrewd idea that stubbornness was a common trait of all the Doctor's incarnations.

"I'm going to bed," she told him. "Do you want me to bring you some books from the library?"

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, looking away for a moment before he answered. "Please."

"What do you want me to bring? Does your taste in books change with your body, like your taste in clothes?" she wondered aloud.

"Some things stay constant," he told her. "How much do you know about regeneration?"

She noted he sounded curious. "Quite a bit, one way and another," she answered vaguely, knowing how many things she couldn't tell him about the future, TARDIS mind-wipe or no TARDIS mind-wipe.

He grunted softly. "Pity you can't stay," he said quietly.

Martha blinked in surprise. "What?"

"I wouldn't mind you travelling with me," he said. "You're smart, quick, brave, a doctor too. And you seem to take a lot of things in your stride."

She just managed not to gape at him. "Wouldn't that cause a paradox?" she asked. "Me travelling with you, after I've already travelled with your future self?"

He gave her a pleased look. "You know about paradoxes?"

Martha rolled her eyes. "Please! I've travelled with your future incarnation, I work for UNIT, and I'm a science fiction fan, of course I know about paradoxes!"

He grinned, his whole face brightening in an amazing manner. "Yeah? What are your favourite SF films?"

"The Back to the Future trilogy," she answered, moving over to sit on the bed when she saw his eager expression.

"Who's your favourite character? Not Marty?"

"Doc Brown," she admitted, wondering if he'd tease her. Instead he started quoting some of the Doc's lines, and she joined in, and offered some of her own.

"Roads – " he began.

"where we're going, we don't Ineed/I roads," Martha finished, laughing. "I love that line. The first time I saw the film, I was so puzzled, wondering what he meant."

"We should watch them tomorrow," he suggested. "You know the TARDIS has got her own cinema?"

"No! You never told me that!"

"Well that was daft," he said. "What's the matter with him? Doesn't he tell you anything useful, or does he just go around pulling disappearing tricks?"

She opened her mouth to answer and found herself fighting the urge to yawn instead. "Sorry," she mumbled when she'd recovered.

"Don't matter," he told her. "You were ready for bed half an hour ago, 'till I got you talking. Did the TARDIS fix up a room for you?"

"I didn't think of that," she admitted.

He closed his eyes briefly in an expression of concentration, then opened them again. "I've asked her to give you the room next to mine," he told her.

"Thanks." She stood up and he patted her arm quickly as she wished him a good night.

Martha went out into the corridor and immediately noticed light spilling from a door that was standing ajar next to the Doctor's room. She pushed it open and stepped inside, smiling in delight when she saw that the room looked a lot like the one she'd had when she'd been travelling full time with the Doctor. She undressed quickly and pulled on the pyjamas the TARDIS had provided, then hurriedly washed her face and cleaned her teeth, deciding she was too tired to shower before bed, and hoping she wouldn't be too stiff in the morning; she'd spotted a few bruises when she was undressing which she guessed were the result of the explosion throwing her into the wall.

_Oh well, at least I won't have to run for my life tomorrow, so I can live with a bit of stiffness_, she decided as she crawled under her duvet. Moments later she was sound asleep.

* * * * * *

Martha woke several hours later feeling slightly stiff, but very refreshed by her sleep; a brisk shower dealt with the stiffness, then she dressed and went to see her patient.

The Doctor sounded cheerful enough when he called out 'Come in' in response to her knock, and he looked more relaxed and less 'spiky' than he had the night before.

"You know, I'd forgotten how much time you a – humans waste in sleeping," he said, before she could speak.

"Do you expect me to apologise for my physiology?" she demanded, folding her arms across her chest and giving him a cross look.

He looked slightly embarrassed. "No, sorry. It's just been a while since I've had any companions other than the TARDIS."

Martha's expression softened immediately and she unfolded her arms. "Did you sleep? How's the leg?"

"A bit. It's mending," he answered. "Could do with a shower."

"That's not a good idea, not with only one leg. You'd risk falling over and injuring yourself even more badly. You might manage a bath, if we can protect the dressings to stop them getting wet."

She lost herself in her thoughts as she considered the options and missed the look the Doctor gave her: a mixture of disbelief and amusement that she was so earnestly considering the matter.

"I can wait," he told her, breaking into her thoughts. "It ain't desperate just yet."

"If you're sure," she began.

"I am. You gonna let me get up and have some breakfast?"

"Yes of course." She picked up his shoes and put them on for him, thinking that it saved time that he was already dressed. Then she picked up the crutches from where she'd left them leaning against the chair the night before and passed them over, before she moved out of his way.

They made their way to the kitchen, which Martha noticed was closer to the Doctor's room this morning, and she set about getting some breakfast after establishing what he wanted.

"Your next incarnation likes scrambled eggs on toast with sausages," she told him as she got out the bread and found plates, mugs and cutlery.

"What, every morning?" he asked, sounding surprised. "I must be a right lard bucket."

Martha laughed. "Skinny as a rake, actually," she said. "And no, not every morning. Most mornings you, he, would just eat two bananas and drink three cups of sweet tea. But we got stuck in 1969 for a bit, and that was his weekend, breakfast-in-bed treat."

"You never made him breakfast in bed? Are you soft in the head?" he asked, apparently scandalised by the idea.

She put the bread into the toaster, then filled the kettle, before turning to smile at him. "No, he actually made it for both of us. I had to work in a shop to support us both while he built a temporal incursion detector to get the TARDIS back."

The Doctor frowned. "How long were you stuck there?"

"Around six weeks." Martha turned back to make the coffee, but she still caught the look of dismay on his face; she remembered her Doctor had told her he didn't 'do domestic', but he hadn't made that bad a job of it at the time.

"What else did we get up to?" he asked as she set down a plate stacked high with toast and two mugs of coffee on the table.

"Oh all sorts," she answered vaguely, before she began spreading marmalade on her toast.

He prodded her with questions, so she told him about visiting Shakespeare in 1599, although she left out the bit about inspiring the Bard; her Doctor had teased her a fair bit about that at the time, and then a bit about life in 1913.

"1913 can't have been easy," he observed quietly.

"It wasn't," she agreed, remembering how often she'd been on the verge of just walking out and leaving 'John Smith' to it, particularly once he got interested in Joan Redfern. The casual racism and the change from almost-Doctor to servant girl had been hard to take, and the situation with Joan had made things so much harder.

She looked up and saw him watching her closely with something like sympathy in his eyes.

"I survived," she said, and he nodded.

Once they'd finished breakfast Martha washed up and then the Doctor suggested again that they watch the 'Back to the Future' films.

"Sure. I haven't watched them for a couple of years, between studying and exams."

He heaved himself out of the chair and they went out into the corridor, Martha following the Doctor since she had no idea where the TARDIS' cinema was located. He paused in the corridor and closed his eyes for a moment, and she guessed he was asking the ship to bring the cinema closer so he wouldn't have too far to walk.

"Come on then." He set off along the corridor, back towards the Control Room, until he came to a dark green door, which Martha opened to save him struggling with his crutches.

The cinema proved to have a huge wide-screen flat panel TV hanging on the wall, and an impressive DVD and laser disc collection.

"Wow!" Martha couldn't help gaping a bit, when she saw it.

The Doctor gave her a smug grin, then pointed out where the SF films were, and she found the boxed set and put the first disc in the DVD player.

* * * * * *

They ended up spending much of the two days that Martha was with him watching movies and arguing good naturedly over them.

On the third day, Martha pronounced the Doctor's leg healed and he prepared to take them back to Earth so he could sort out the trouble there.

"Are you sure you won't come with me?" he asked, not looking up from setting the coordinates.

"I can't," she told him, "I have to find out what happened to the Doctor I travelled with."

"I'm gonna miss you," he admitted, still not looking up. "You're not bad for an ape."

She rolled her eyes a bit. "I'll miss you too. But you'll soon find yourself a companion. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon." She smiled at the incomplete quote, knowing he'd get it.

"Well, there was this one girl that I met before I blew up that relay device, Rose her name was, but she wasn't a doctor like you."

Martha was glad he wasn't looking her way, she was sure her expression reflected her complete shock.

"Well not everyone has to be a doctor, do they?" she asked, finally forcing her vocal chords into action. "I'm sure she'd have other things to offer, if you decided to look her up again."

"I s'pose." He looked up finally. "I shall miss missing you," he said.

She nodded, knowing he was referring to the planned mind-wipe.

"I shall miss you," she told him.

The TARDIS landed and Martha was glad of the distraction. She slid off the captain's chair and offered him her hand.

"Don't be daft!" he said, pulling her into a tight hug. He kissed the top of her head, then let go of her. "Go and be fantastic."

She gave him a sketchy salute. "I'll do my best."

She let herself out of the TARDIS and hurried away before she could change her mind. "Time to try again," she muttered as she adjusted the settings on the Vortex Manipulator and made the jump away.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: A Shift in Perspective

Author: Persiflage_1

Characters/Pairings: Martha Jones, Fifth Doctor, Torchwood Team, other canon characters

Rating: G

Spoilers: Black Orchid

Summary: The Tenth Doctor goes missing and it's up to Martha Jones to track him down again, but it proves both harder and more instructive than she expects.

Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!

* * * * * *

Martha's arrival after her next jump was greeted with a shriek and she couldn't help wondering if there going to be a lot of shrieks in the near future. She opened her eyes and found herself almost face to face with a young blond man who was dressed, rather incongruously, in a red Chinese silk robe, a pair of light coloured trousers and shoes.

"Where did you spring from?" he demanded, sounding shocked.

"Sorry, I'm looking for the Doctor, is he here?" she asked quickly.

"Who are you? And where did you come from?"

"I'm Martha, Dr Martha Jones," she answered, scanning the room and taking in the dark wood-panelling on the walls, the free-standing mirror, the paintings, and the dressing table with its various accoutrements. It looked a bit like one of the stately homes she'd been taken to see on school trips as a child. She also noticed the Pierrot costume on the bed, alongside a jacket, jumper and shirt.

"You still haven't told me where you came from," the man said, sounding irritated at her lack of explanations.

"Sorry." She looked at him again. "Are you the Doctor?"

"I am." He managed to maintain his dignity despite being bare-chested.

She took a moment to digest this. He'd shrieked when she'd arrived, but then so had Jo, and although she'd never experienced it, she supposed it must be pretty unnerving to have a total stranger appear out of nowhere in a sudden burst of Vortex energy.

"Sorry I startled you. I'm hoping you can help me to help you, I mean a future incarnation of you."

"You've come from the future?" he asked doubtfully.

Martha nodded. "I travelled through the Time Vortex."

He gaped at her. "That's impossible. You can't travel through the Vortex without a capsule of some kind to protect you, otherwise the Time Winds would tear you apart."

"If you've got one of these, though, you're protected," she told him, tapping Jack's wrist computer.

"May I see that please?" he asked.

She crossed to his side, her legs still feeling a bit wobbly after her jump, and handed it to him.

"Here, sit down," he said, pushing aside his clothes.

"Thanks." She gratefully sank down onto the bed and rubbed her legs.

"This technology is anachronistic," the Doctor muttered, peering at the controls over the top of a pair of gold wire-framed glasses that he'd pulled from the pocket of the jacket beside him.

"It's 51st century Time Agency technology," she told him.

"You're a Time Agent?" he asked, sounding surprised.

She shook her head. "No, I'm a Medical Officer with UNIT. I've come from the 21st century."

"So why are you here, and equipped with 51st century technology?"

She took a deep breath, then began to explain about the Doctor she knew being snatched from the street in Cardiff, and the small group of former companions who had provided information and technology to track him down.

"Jack's wrist computer needs to be fine tuned by each incarnation of you so that I only meet each one of you once," she said, explaining that she'd met his third incarnation twice before he'd realised that the device needed to be recalibrated.

"So if you could just do the necessary jiggery-pokery with your sonic screwdriver, I can continue my search for my Doctor," Martha finished.

"Ah." He gave her a regretful look.

"Ah what?" she asked worriedly.

"I don't have a sonic screwdriver."

She raised her eyebrows, puzzled by this revelation. "Of course you do. Your third incarnation had one, so did your ninth, whom I just met." Then her frown disappeared. "Oh! Wait, are you the first incarnation, and you haven't built one yet? Did I just cause a paradox?"

He shook his head. "No, you haven't caused a paradox. And no, I'm not in my first incarnation. This is actually my fifth body. I did have a sonic screwdriver, but it was destroyed recently by a Terileptil, one of a race of space-faring aliens with very advanced technology, and I haven't had a chance to build a new one so far."

"Really?" asked Martha, surprised. "Your tenth self's sonic screwdriver was destroyed during my first encounter with him, and he built a new one within a few hours. He told me that he loved his sonic screwdriver."

"You surprise me," he said.

"So, how are you going to recalibrate Jack's wrist computer? Because, no offence, but I really don't want to keep bouncing through Time until I run into you at a time when you still have a working sonic."

"I can use the TARDIS," answered the Doctor quickly.

"Great. Where is she?"

"At the railway station, well Cranleigh Halt, a few miles away."

"And where's that?" asked Martha, disappointed that the ship wasn't nearby.

"I'll draw you a map." He picked up his jacket and began taking things out of the pocket: a yo-yo, a cricket ball, a paper bag full of jelly babies, and an apple (which he gave to Martha and she gratefully accepted).

"Hang on," she said, fishing in her own, less-than-transdimensional jacket pocket. She pulled out a notepad and a pen and handed them over. She knew of old just what the Doctor was like for carrying vast amounts of odds and ends in his jacket pockets, and she didn't want to be there for hours while he found a pen and some paper.

"Thank you." He took the pad and flipped it open, then accepted the pen and drew her a map of the route to the railway station.

Then he fished in the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a key on a piece of string. "You'll need the TARDIS key," he said.

Martha pulled her own key from the neck of her t-shirt. "I've got one."

"Ah yes." He inspected it. "I'm not sure that one will open the door at present. She has a tendency to change the lock every so often, so take this one, just to be on the safe side."

"What about you?" she asked.

"Oh I've got a spare, don't worry. Now, you must make yourself at home when you get to the TARDIS as I'm not quite sure how soon we'll be able to get away, but it might be a few hours before the ball ends."

"We?" asked Martha, surprised. She had assumed he was on his own, just like his ninth incarnation.

"Ah yes, you haven't met my companions yet. Well Nyssa, Tegan and Adric are all around somewhere, probably down on the terrace enjoying the food and dancing."

"Okay then. I'd better not keep you from the party." She stood up, accepting her notepad and pen from the Doctor, and the TARDIS key. "Thank you. I'll see you later."

He nodded and watched as she slipped quickly through the door.

Martha made her way quickly and quietly down the stairs from the Doctor's room, and then out of the house. To her relief, everyone seemed to be round on the terrace at the side of the house where there was dancing and tables of food; all the servants she saw were too focused on their tasks to spot her moving away from the house.

She didn't really relax until she was off Lord Cranleigh's property and out on the public road, and even then she felt exposed, aware that she stuck out like a sore thumb. She was reminded powerfully of her trek around the world and wished her TARDIS key still possessed the perception filter. However, she walked briskly, adopting the Doctor's 'walk around like you own the place' attitude, and hoped that she could pull it off as well as he often seemed to do.

By the time she reached the station, Martha was hot and tired, and thinking longingly of a cool drink and a chance to sit down and catch her breath. However, she was forced to abandon her immediate plans by the sight of the TARDIS being loaded onto a flat bed truck, an operation that was being supervised by a very officious-looking policeman.

"Typical," she muttered, drawing back into shelter and watching closely. She wondered where they planned to take the ship, and how she was going to follow when she was on foot and didn't have any money for this era. Then she saw her chance: the policeman, lorry driver, and the three other men who'd helped lift the police box onto the back of the truck, all went back into the station, leaving the TARDIS unguarded. She ran across the street and pulled herself up onto the back of the truck, then tugged out the key the Doctor had given her. Unfortunately, before she could get the door open, she heard the voice of the policeman as he returned, so she ducked down alongside the ship and waited, her blood pounding in her ears.

"We'll take it to the police station," the policeman said from somewhere close at hand.

Martha shrank down beside the TARDIS hoping no one would think to look in the back of the truck.

"What should I do if anyone comes asking for it, Sergeant?" asked another man.

She carefully peered between the wooden slats that edged the bed of the truck and saw someone whom she took to be a railway official, judging by his uniform, standing next to the Sergeant.

"What you do, Cook, is send them to me," answered the Sergeant, "and perhaps they'll be able to explain just what a police public call box is, and what it was doing on the down platform at Cranleigh Halt."

"Very well sir."

Martha waited until the truck began moving, then edged back towards the doors of the TARDIS, but she quickly realised that her plan of letting herself into the ship before it reached the police station would not work: over the top of the tailgate she could just see the roof of a car following them. If she opened the door, whoever was driving the car would notice it, and they would undoubtedly stop the lorry driver to report it. And although she would have time to get inside the TARDIS, they would undoubtedly attempt to break in, and she didn't think either the ship or the Doctor would appreciate it if the TARDIS was damaged by over-curious policemen. She would just have to bide her time and hope that an opportunity arose to slip inside unnoticed.

After a bumpy and rather uncomfortable ride – although the discomfort was relative, since Martha doubted anything could match the discomforts of travelling the Time Vortex protected only by the bubble generated by Jack's Vortex Manipulator – the lorry pulled into the yard at the police station. She moved back along the side of the TARDIS, keeping low just in case the driver chanced to look in his rear view mirror and see her movements. She heard car doors opening and closing, and surmised that the Sergeant had travelled in the car that she'd seen following the lorry. Then she heard the Sergeant talking to the lorry driver somewhere close by; a few moments later she felt the vibration of the driver's cab door banging shut and she waited tensely to see whether they were going to move the TARDIS immediately.

Fortunately she heard footsteps moving away from the lorry, so she quickly and quietly made her way back to the front of the TARDIS; she darted a swift glance over the tailgate and saw that the car was empty. Another glance showed that the police station yard was also deserted, so she scrambled to her feet, the TARDIS key already clutched in her hand, and let herself into the ship. Closing the door behind her as soon as she was safely inside, she drew in a deep breath, then let it out again with a sigh. It was only then that she noticed the vast difference between the TARDIS interior she knew and loved, and this one.

This control room was a stark white room without any clutter; it had a smaller, much less haphazard console; Martha abruptly realised that this was the TARDIS when Gallifrey still existed and the Doctor could still take his ship home for repairs, instead of having to make do with whatever bits and pieces he could lay his hands on.

She walked forward, examining the console nervously: this stark white interior made her feel exposed and uncomfortable, as if she was an unwanted visitor.

"Hello," she said softly. "It's me, Martha Jones. I know we haven't met yet from your point of view, but I'm a companion of the Doctor in the future, and we were, are, friends – at least as much as it's possible for a sentient ship and a short-lived human to be friends."

She stopped, feeling foolish, but then she felt a response from the ship – the mental equivalent of a cool hand brushing against her skin, and she felt less unwelcome.

"Hello," she repeated, less softly this time. "I'm waiting for the Doctor. He's at some fancy dress ball not too far away and I've no idea when he'll be back, but soon I hope." She sighed. She had been slightly disappointed at this incarnation's lack of urgency about her 'mission', and rather surprised that he was running around without his sonic screwdriver, but she knew she had no right to expect him to drop everything when she burst into his life.

She shook her head, trying to push aside her worries, and decided to go and get herself the cool drink she'd been wanting since she arrived at the railway station.

Martha found the kitchen almost immediately and she patted the wall by the fridge, murmuring her thanks as she felt certain that the ship had helped her out. Opening the door, she spotted a carton of her favourite fruit juice, which she seized with delight. She found a glass and filled it with juice, then drank half immediately, before topping up the glass and returning the carton to the fridge. Then she set out to explore this version of the TARDIS.

* * * * * *

Jack had found himself unable to settle to anything since Martha had left three hours ago – all he could do was wonder where she was, and if she was okay. He knew that she was perfectly capable of looking after herself, particularly after that year, but he still worried about her, just as he worried about the members of his team. If the truth was told, while she might never join Torchwood Three, he considered her to be an unofficial member of his team.

The door to his office opened and Jack span around to see Gwen standing there. "Any news?" he asked eagerly.

Gwen shook her head. "No, I came to say I'm going home for a few hours. Rhys has phoned three times to find out where I am."

Jack glanced at the clock, surprised. "Sorry Gwen, I'd completely lost track of the time. Of course you should go home, and don't come back until lunchtime, okay?"

"I'll be back by ten," she said.

"Noon," Jack corrected her, wagging a finger. "It's 4 am now, and it is Saturday."

"Okay, okay. But you'll ring me before that if there's any news?"

"That's a promise," Jack agreed readily, knowing how well Gwen and Martha got on. "Now go and get some sleep."

As Gwen opened his door again, he suddenly remembered the other member of his team. "Where's Ianto?"

"Asleep on the sofa," she answered.

Jack frowned, following her out of his office and down into the main part of the Hub. Sure enough the young Welshman was stretched out on the sofa, fast asleep. Jack went over and shook him awake.

"Come on," he said. "Bed. Go and use mine, and I'll keep any eye on the Rift Monitors."

Ianto mumbled something indistinct and Jack sighed, then guided him across the room and up the stairs to his office. "Just don't fall down the ladder," Jack said, "since Martha's not here to patch you up, that means I'll have to do it and you might not appreciate it."

"Yes sir." The younger man smiled sleepily, then made his way down into Jack's quarters.

Meanwhile his boss had gone to get himself some coffee, then he settled in what used to be Tosh's work area in order to keep an eye on the Rift Monitors, just in case the being that had taken the Doctor brought him back again. He wished he could talk to Martha and find out how her search was going, but her phone had been switched off the twice he'd tried ringing her. He knew that made sense because they had no idea where the Doctor had been taken, and her phone ringing at an inopportune moment might reveal her presence to someone she'd rather stay hidden from, but he still wanted to talk to her. He sighed heavily, then made himself focus on the screens in front of him as he began sipping his coffee.

* * * * * *

Martha had found the TARDIS library in her wanderings and she settled in there to do some reading, hoping she might find a clue about the being who took her Doctor. She knew it was a long shot, but she had to do something while she waited for the current incarnation to turn up again, and she disliked wasting time. After a couple of hours she fell asleep, worn out by the time-jumping that she'd been doing; she awoke abruptly to the knowledge that the Doctor had returned, although she didn't know how she knew that, until she realised that the TARDIS was humming at her.

"Thanks for waking me," she said softly. She put back the books she'd taken from the shelves and then set off along the corridor to the Control Room.

As she got closer, Martha recognised the Doctor's voice: there was a strained quality to it, however, and she hesitated outside the half-open door, listening and peering through the crack. She saw the Doctor, dressed in a Pierrot outfit, a uniformed policeman, another older man with a ruffled shirt that momentarily reminded her of the Third Doctor, a young boy and two young women. She guessed that these last three were the Doctor's current companions: Adric, Nyssa and Tegan. She wondered who was who: presumably the boy in the peasant outfit was Adric; but she had no way of knowing whether the girl in the floaty blue dress or the girl in the pink skirt and green top was Tegan, and which was Nyssa. The three companions and the Doctor had their backs to her, their attention clearly focused on the policeman and the other man.

"Unbelievable. Quite unbelievable," said the older man. "I must say all this is going to be rather difficult to explain in my report. In this sense you are owed an apology."

"In this sense?" asked the Doctor. Martha thought he sounded annoyed.

"Well, there is still a murder to be explained," answered the older man.

_A murder?_ Martha could hardly believe her ears. She wondered what the Doctor had been doing in the last couple of hours if he was being accused of murder.

She saw him turn and begin fiddling with the controls on the console, and the voice spoke outside the open door of the TARDIS.

"Sir Robert?"

"Come in," called the Doctor. She could see he looked a little strained now he had turned in her direction.

Another policeman came through the door. "Strike me pink!" he exclaimed as he saw the interior of the ship.

The older man spoke, identifying himself as Sir Robert. "What is it Cummings?"

"A call from Lord Cranleigh, sir, up at the hall. He's found another body, a man called Digby."

Martha saw a look of relief sweep across the Doctor's face as he turned at Cummings' news. He moved away from the console and put his hands in his trouser pockets.

"His neck's broken," continued Cummings, "just like the servant, James."

"The man in the cupboard," said the Doctor.

Martha frowned, wondering what he meant: this whole situation had become very perplexing.

"Yes, thank you Cummings. Come on Markham." Cummings had already gone out of the door and Sir Robert moved to follow him, the Sergeant, Markham, close behind.

"I could get you there soon," the Doctor observed.

Sir Robert stopped and turned to look at the Doctor. "You could?" He looked at the Sergeant whose face was impassive beneath his helmet. "All right, you do that." He smiled at the Doctor, who immediately turned back to the console, shutting the TARDIS door.

In the corridor Martha bit her lip worriedly, then set off for the library again. Whatever the situation was, with two men dead, it was clear that she wouldn't be getting any assistance from the Doctor just yet, and as she was uncertain whether he had told his companions about her presence (she suspected not in the circumstances), she thought it was prudent to take herself out of the way until the Time Lord could recalibrate the Vortex Manipulator.

* * * * * *

Martha was thinking about her arguments with Tom: she had finally decided to tell him about the year that the Doctor had rewound, something she hadn't dared to talk to him about before. She had thought that the business with the Daleks and the planets being moved would make it easier for him to believe her, but he'd proved her very wrong. It had taken her a couple of hours to explain about meeting and travelling with the Doctor, what the Master had done, and her subsequent trek around the world. His reaction had been scornful and dismissive, and when she'd tried to reason with him, reminding him of the business at Canary Wharf with the Daleks and the Cybermen, the spaceship over Earth on Christmas Day a couple of years ago, the spaceship that had crashed into Big Ben, he had accused her of watching too much sci-fi, and then, during the ensuing argument, he had told her that she needed to see a psychiatrist.

They had spent the three days of his visit from Africa in arguing about it, until he'd stormed off to see his parents, and she'd fled to Cardiff to visit Jack.

It was about an hour after the Doctor, Sir Robert and the others had left the TARDIS that Martha heard voices in the corridor outside the library; she quickly got up and hurried across the room. She reached the half open door in time to see the Doctor's three companions heading in the direction of the kitchen, and she noticed that the Time Lord wasn't with them. As soon as they were out of earshot, Martha hurried back to the Control Room and paused by the half open door.

"You can come in," the Doctor said from the other side.

Startled, Martha went through and found the Time Lord, now dressed in a cricketing outfit, fiddling with the console. He looked up as she approached.

"I'm terribly sorry that you've had to wait so long," he said. "Things got rather out of hand."

"So I gathered," she answered. "Have they found the murderer?"

His eyebrows shot up. "So you heard about that, did you?"

"The TARDIS let me know you were back, but I thought I'd better not just pop up like last time so I waited in the corridor and heard the conversation with Sir Robert."

"The TARDIS let you know?" he asked, sounding very surprised.

Martha nodded. "She and I formed a strong bond when I was travelling with you – your later incarnation, I mean. I was in the library when you returned earlier and she let me know you were back."

"How?" He looked so curious that she sought for a way to express in words what she'd experienced.

"It was like a mental tap on the shoulder, I suppose. A nudge in my mind that told me without words that you were back."

"Interesting," he breathed. "She must really like you. I've only ever known her interact so directly before with other Time Lords."

Martha shrugged. "As I said, we formed a strong bond."

He seemed to sense that she didn't want to talk about it, because he suddenly became very business-like. "Yes, well, much as I'd like to discuss this with you at length, I've kept you hanging around for quite long enough already. If you let me have your device, I'll see about recalibrating it for you."

"Thank you." She unfastened the wrist strap and handed it over.

She watched as the Doctor placed the wrist computer on the console, and connected a couple of wires to it, then flicked some switches. It buzzed momentarily, and then he disconnected the wires and handed it back.

"There you are."

"Thank you very much. I'm sorry I've added to your hassles today."

He shook his head. "You're looking for my later incarnation, how can I mind that? Will you be all right?" he asked as she strapped the device back onto her wrist.

She looked up. "Of course."

"It's just, well, you seem awfully young to be hopping through Time on your own."

Martha quirked an eyebrow at him. "I'm not sure what my age has to do with it. My Doctor is missing and I need to get him back to his proper place in Time."

He raised his hand in a placatory gesture. "I'm not saying you're not capable," he assured her. "I'm just a bit worried. You never know who or what you might run into."

"I've dealt with Daleks twice, and others who were quite determined to destroy me. I'm still here to tell the tale, and they're not."

"Clearly I must bow to your courage and experience," he said.

She wondered if he was being sarcastic, but then realised he wasn't; she wondered if she was becoming too suspicious. She fished the TARDIS key he'd given her out of her coat pocket and handed it over. "Thanks again for your help."

"Take care of yourself." He opened the TARDIS doors for her and she hurried out, then made her next jump.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: A Shift in Perspective

Author: Persiflage_1

Characters/Pairings: Martha, Eighth Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Torchwood Team, Sarah Jane

Rating: G

Spoilers: Big Finish Audio: Other Lives, Season 3

Summary: The Tenth Doctor goes missing and it's up to Martha Jones to track him down again, but it proves both harder and more instructive than she expects.

Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!

* * * * * *

The Doctor came to with a groan: his whole body ached, and his arms and chest felt as if they were on fire. Opening his eyes he found the being who had snatched him was releasing him from its bindings of blue electricity. He flexed his muscles experimentally as he was freed.

"You cannot escape Time Lord, so do not bother to try," growled the other.

"Where am I? And who are you?" asked the Doctor, his own voice hoarse and his throat dry.

"Who I am is not important. As for where you are, that information will not help you, so there is no harm in telling you that you are on Skra, awaiting my master's pleasure. And he will take great pleasure in knowing you are here, Time Lord. He has sought your capture for many centuries."

"And just who is your master?" demanded the Doctor, deciding he would get as much information from this being as he could.

"All in good time," answered the being.

"And you? What are you getting out of this?"

"You may call me Slavin, although it is not my real name, any more than yours is 'The Doctor'. As for what I'm getting out of this, it is none of your business what my business with my master may be."

"Slavin, eh? That's the Dutch word for a slave, so I'm guessing you've been promised your freedom as a reward for capturing me. I wonder if your master is the sort to keep his promises, 'cos a lot of your villains aren't. They'll break a promise as easily as they'd break your bones, more easily, usually, 'cos breaking promises requires considerably less effort."

"Enough of this babble," snarled Slavin, stepping closer to the Doctor. "Be quiet or I'll make you stay quiet."

The Time Lord opened his mouth to make a witty retort, then thought better of it. He needed to be able to attempt an escape and provoking Slavin wouldn't help, judging by the violence in his expression.

Slavin nodded. "You are reputed to be wise, Time Lord. I am glad to see that in this instance the reputation is deserved. I shall go and notify my master of your capture. If you are truly wise, you will use the time to think of ways to appease his anger at eluding him all these years." He turned and strode across the cavernous room to which he'd brought the Doctor and let himself out of a small door in the far corner.

The Doctor reflected that he was lucky not to have been tied or chained up, or to have been searched. He immediately set off across the room, intending to let himself out with his sonic, and then go in search of some form of transport to take him away.

He was so intent on the door that he failed to observe a red line painted across the floor halfway between the door and the spot where he'd regained consciousness. As soon as he attempted to cross the red line, however, a severe pain shot through his head and he staggered backwards, clutching his temples and moaning in agony.

"What was that?" he croaked. It felt as if someone had shoved a dozen red hot pokers into his brain all at once. He looked down and spotted the red line across the floor, and looking left and right, he saw that it continued across the floor and up the walls. Craning his neck and looking up into the gloom above, the Doctor saw that the red line ran across the ceiling as well.

"The thin red line," he muttered, rubbing at his temples. Delving into his inside jacket pocket, he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and then crouched down to scan the red line. "It's got a very specific current running through it, strong enough to give anyone who's got telepathic abilities a nasty headache. Basically it's the psychic equivalent of a choke chain. That must be why Slavin didn't bother restraining me – he must have believed I wouldn't be able to cross the line."

The Doctor chuckled softly. "He clearly has no idea what the sonic can do." He twiddled the settings on the slender device in his hand, then activated it again, before striding confidently forwards, the sonic held in front of him at arm's length.

As his body crossed the line there was a blinding white flash behind his eyes and a searing pain in his head, a pain exponentially worse than when he'd first tried to cross the line, and the last thing he registered before he blacked out was his body being thrown several feet backwards.

When he regained consciousness the Doctor felt disorientated and sore, as if he'd head-butted a tank.

"Martha?" he croaked, "Jack?" The last thing he clearly remembered was drinking with Martha and Jack on the TARDIS as she refuelled in Cardiff. Had Jack spiked his drink?

"Not Martha or Jack," growled a voice nearby.

The Time Lord opened his eyes cautiously, squinting against the light, although it wasn't that bright. "Oh my head," he moaned, clutching at it.

"I imagine you have found out the hard way that you cannot cross the red line," commented the voice.

The Doctor focused his eyes with difficulty. "Slavin?"

"Time Lord. Have you learned your lesson? You will remain here until such time as my master arrives to deal with you. I need not chain you since you cannot cross the red line without causing yourself considerable pain."

He set down a tray near the Doctor, then walked away.

Pulling himself up to lean against a wooden crate, the Time Lord investigated the contents of the tray and found a plate full of chunks of grey bread, a bowl of thin brown stew and a jug of water. He screwed up his nose, thinking longingly of more appetising food, but he was aware that he couldn't afford to be choosy. He drank a couple of mouthfuls of the surprisingly icy-cold water, then nibbled at a chunk of bread: it was dry and not very fresh, so he dunked it into the stew to soften it and make it a little more palatable. He didn't bother lingering over his meal since the food wasn't worth savouring, but he drank some more water, acutely aware of the dryness of his mouth and throat since he had been knocked out.

* * * * * *

Martha's first reaction when she arrived at her next destination was to wonder how on Earth she was going to find the Doctor in such a crowd of people: there were hundreds, if not thousands, crowding the glass and steel building.

"Hang on," she muttered to herself, looking up and around at the roof and walls. "Don't tell me the Doctor's decided on a day trip to the Great Exhibition at the Crystal Palace?" She felt bewildered by the noise and press of people, all of whom were dressed far more formally than she was, this being the nineteenth century, before jeans and t-shirts.

"Blimey, and I thought I stuck out in the Roaring Twenties." Martha shook her head and hoped that she wouldn't be accosted or stared at too often, then realised that talking to herself would almost certainly attract unwanted attention.

She stared around at the crowds, wondering where the Doctor was in this teeming mass of humanity. She could search for hours and not find him, yet he had to be in the building somewhere for Jack's wrist computer to have brought her here: K-9 had specificially given them the data they needed to track the Doctor himself.

**Two hours after the Doctor was kidnapped.**

"Sarah Jane!" exclaimed Martha suddenly, startling the others from their frustrated contemplation of the difficulty of finding the Doctor when they had no idea who had taken him or why.

"We could ask Sarah Jane," she suggested. "She's known the Doctor longer than any of us."

Jack grabbed her and tugged her close enough to plant a smacking kiss on her forehead. "I knew there was a reason I loved you Dr Jones, you're smart as well as sexy." He turned to Ianto, ignoring Martha's blush. "Use the subwave, then we can all listen in and talk to her."

"On it, sir," answered the young Welshman. He was probably the least affected by the frustration of the ineffective searches through Tosh's extensive database of aliens that they had made in the hope of identifying the being who had kidnapped the Time Lord.

A few moments later Sarah Jane's face appeared on the screen and Jack promptly offered her a smart salute. "Ma'am, we're hoping you can help us."

"Hello Jack. Martha, you're in Cardiff?" Sarah Jane asked, surprised.

"Just for the weekend," Martha answered.

"Hello Gwen, Ianto." She nodded to the other two Torchwood team members, then turned her attention back to Jack and Martha. "What can I do to help?"

"We're hoping you can identify a possible alien for us. It came through the Rift a couple of hours ago and took the Doctor."

"What?" asked Sarah Jane, shocked.

Martha quickly described the being who had kidnapped the Time Lord, but Sarah Jane was shaking her head almost before the young doctor had finished. "It sounds like the Trickster, but it can't be him. If he'd taken the Doctor, then we wouldn't remember ever knowing him, so it must be someone else, but I don't know who," she said regretfully.

"Dammit!" Martha exclaimed, frustrated at being thwarted again.

"Have you tried tracking the Doctor with the TARDIS?" asked the journalist.

"No. I don't know how to do that," the younger woman admitted.

"Well, what about Jack's wrist gadget?" suggested Sarah Jane.

"We need something to go on though," Jack said. "Like a bloodhound needs a scent."

"K-9!" cried Sarah Jane.

"What?" asked Ianto, confused.

"Sarah Jane's got a robotic dog," Jack said quietly, as they all watched the older woman cross her attic to a wooden safe door set into the wall.

Sarah Jane turned the dial and the door opened to reveal a black hole beyond, and in its midst, a metal dog-shaped object.

"K-9, the Doctor has gone missing and we need a way to track him down," she told the dog.

"Suggest tracing the Doctor-Master's psychospoor, Mistress," answered K-9 in his precise tones.

"Psychospoor?" asked everyone wonderingly.

"All Time Lords have a specific psychokinetic energy which can be traced through Time and Space," the dog informed them.

"How?" asked Martha instantly.

"Mistress-Martha will require use of advanced technology."

"The TARDIS?" asked Sarah Jane, a breath ahead of everyone else.

"I can't pilot the TARDIS, not on my own," objected Martha promptly.

"Would this be capable?" asked Jack, holding up his wrist computer to the screen.

"This unit is unfamiliar with the device, Master," responded K-9.

"It's a 51st century wrist computer with a built-in Vortex Manipulator," explained Sarah Jane.

"Device will be sufficient, Mistress."

"So how do we use it to trace the Doctor's psychokinetic energy?" asked Martha.

"This unit can supply data. Request permission to interface with Mr Smith, Mistress?" asked K-9.

"Of course," answered Sarah Jane promptly.

Everyone watched as the robotic dog leapt out of the wall safe and trundled across the attic floor to the computer.

"Accessing data," boomed Mr Smith as K-9's nose probe interfaced with the computer.

"Data transfer complete," announced K-9. "This unit will return to its former task."

"Thank you K-9!" called Martha quickly.

"Mistress-Martha is welcome." He leapt back into the wall safe and Sarah Jane shut the door on him, then hurried across to her computer.

"Can you transfer the data from K-9 to Jack please, Mr Smith?"

"Transferring data now. Transfer complete."

"Thanks Sarah Jane," Jack said, as he wirelessly connected his wrist device to the computer and downloaded the data.

"Keep me informed, please?" asked Sarah Jane.

"Of course," Martha said. "We'll let you know as soon as we find him."

Sarah Jane signed out of the subwave and Jack turned to the others. "Now we need to decide who's going after the Doctor."

"I am," Martha said immediately. "He might be injured, after the way that being was treating him, so I'm the best person to go."

"I'll come with you," Jack said.

"No. You should stay here, keep an eye on the TARDIS and keep monitoring the Rift, just in case," she said.

He raised an eyebrow at her brisk tone, noticing that both Gwen and Ianto weren't looking happy. "Gwen and Ianto can monitor the Rift, and keep an eye on the TARDIS," he said.

"I really think this is more of a one-person job," Martha said.

"But what if this thing attacks you too?" Jack persisted. "You'll die and you'll stay dead."

"It won't attack me. I don't look much like a threat, and it's already seen you as a threat and dispatched you with ease," she argued. "Don't make me pull rank on you Jack." She smiled to show she wasn't entirely serious.

"I agree with Martha," Ianto chipped in. "I think she's the best person to go after the Doctor."

"Okay, okay," Jack said, sounding defeated. "But you'd better come back again! I'm not ready to lose you just yet." He wagged a finger at her, then hugged her tightly.

After a few moments he pulled away again. "Right, let me show you how to use this thing." He took her through the controls, and she repeated them back to him, then strapped the device to her wrist.

"Good luck!" Gwen said, hugging Martha quickly.

"Come back safely," Ianto told her, also giving her a hug.

"Bring him back for all of us," Jack said, saluting her.

Martha nodded, then set the controls and jumped.

**Now**

Martha set her jaw, then decided that a methodical search of the Crystal Palace from top to bottom was her best bet for finding the Time Lord. She had assumed the Doctor would be in her immediate vicinity since that had been true of her first four jumps, and for all she knew, he was close at hand, but she had no way of knowing what he looked like so that wasn't much assistance at this point. She had also assumed that he would stand out in some way because of his clothing, but she now realised that was a false assumption – even "her" Doctor had occasionally dressed appropriately for the situation. The thought of him in his tux at the LazLabs event brought a slight flutter to her insides, but she promptly shoved the memory aside.

Then she remembered her TARDIS key: that could lead her to the ship, and if she found the ship, it stood to reason she would eventually find the Time Lord himself, although she might have to wait a little while if he really was visiting the exhibition. She had a dim recollection of being told in a History lesson that it would take several hours to see everything that was held in the Crystal Palace.

Martha headed up the nearest staircase, intending to get a bird's eye view of the main floor of the Palace from the gallery above: she hoped that she would be able to see the TARDIS from up there. As she climbed upwards a young woman, around 20 years old, came rushing down the stairs, her voluminous skirts billowing around her.

Martha drew back against the wall, worried she would be knocked over; she was startled to see the young woman running so enthusiastically since she had gained the impression from watching Jane Austen that young ladies did not, on the whole, behave in such a manner in a public place. The young woman tossed a brief apology over her shoulder in Martha's direction as she continued her headlong rush down the stairs.

"It's nothing, I'm sure," she muttered as she reached the gallery where she spotted a man standing a few feet away. He was dressed in a velvet jacket and pale brown trousers, and he had curly brown hair above a vexed expression.

"Charley? Charley!" he cried. "I knew this would happen. It happens every time. All I have to do is let her out of my sight for one moment and she's gone." He shook his head. "What am I always telling them? 'Don't wander off', and what does she immediately do?"

Martha approached him, certain this must be the Time Lord: more than once she'd heard her own Doctor talking about not wandering off in that same exasperated tone.

"Doctor?"

He gave her a puzzled look. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"Are you the Doctor?" she asked, then she looked past him and saw, amidst the dozens of musical instruments that filled the gallery, the familiar shape of the TARDIS.

The man's expression sharpened when he saw Martha's reaction to the sight of the ship, noticing the way her eyes lit up and her mouth curved up into a smile of delight.

"I am the Doctor," he agreed, "and you seem to know me and my ship."

She laughed softly. "Oh I know the TARDIS," she said, feeling her key growing warm against her skin where it lay inside her t-shirt. "As for you, well I travelled with you in the early 21st century."

"Did you indeed?" His manner immediately became more friendly and he smiled at her. "May I ask your name?"

"Martha, Dr Martha Jones." She held out her hand, then blushed when he immediately lifted it to kiss the back as he held her fingers.

"And may I ask how you come to be here now?" he asked. "Are you here with another me?"

She shook her head, "No, you never brought me here. I'm looking for the incarnation of you whom I know. He's gone missing."

The Doctor looked faintly alarmed. "Perhaps we should adjourn to the TARDIS and you can explain properly?" he suggested.

Martha nodded and he immediately slipped her arm through his to lead her down the gallery to where the ship waited. He opened the door, then stood back and flourished a bow to invite her inside, and she couldn't help thinking that his courtly manners were very fitting for this era; she wondered if he adjusted his behaviour according to when he was in Time, but then she had never noticed her Doctor doing so – his attitude was usually 'act as if you own the place'.

Martha stepped into the TARDIS and felt her jaw drop in astonishment. "Wow! This is – wow!"

The Doctor gave her a puzzled look. "I thought you said you knew the TARDIS?"

"Oh, I do – but not looking like this," she answered. "When I travelled, will travel – " She paused and shook her head. "In my day she doesn't look like this. And the version of the control room I've just seen with one of your earlier incarnations was a stark white affair, not this Gothic steam-punk library!"

At that moment someone came into the Control Room from the entrance on the far side of the room, then paused to stare, much as Martha, despite herself, was also staring.

"Doctor?" said the newcomer. "Where's Charley? And who is this?"

"Oh yes, sorry!" exclaimed the Time Lord apologetically. "This is Dr Martha Jones, a travelling companion of mine from the future. Martha, this is C'rizz, one of my current companions. He's a Eutermesan."

Martha smiled. "Hello."

He was an exoskeletal reptilian humanoid, with vestigial bone structures on his head, and his skin was lighter than hers, but as she watched, she saw it changing hue, and realised that he had a chameleon's nature as well.

"Where's Charley?" repeated C'rizz, ignoring Martha's curious look.

"Oh somewhere about," the Doctor answered. "She wanted to explore."

"And you let her go off by herself?"

"She'll be alright," the Time Lord said confidently. "She's a smart girl, and the Crystal Palace is well policed."

"Hmm." He turned and stalked out the way he'd come, looking distinctly grumpy.

"I don't think he likes me," Martha observed ruefully. She hadn't known that the Doctor had previously travelled with non-human companions, and she would have liked to learn more about C'rizz and his people.

"Oh he's just a bit shy about meeting new people," answered the Doctor cheerfully. "Why don't we sit down and you can tell me everything?" He gestured towards two plush red armchairs situated either side of a low round table, and Martha settled gratefully into one, then began to tell her story.

The Doctor listened attentively to her narrative, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, and his hands steepled in front of his face.

"You say you didn't see the face of the kidnapper?" he asked when Martha had finished.

She shook her head. "No." Her voice was hoarse from recounting the disappearance of her Doctor, and her subsequent encounters with three of his other incarnations.

"I beg your pardon, Martha." He got up. "Let me get you some refreshment. Tea?"

"Yes please."

He gave her shoulder a squeeze as he passed her chair and she closed her eyes on a sudden prickle of tears; she liked this incarnation of the Doctor: he seemed more open and caring than the incarnation she knew, and there wasn't that loss and darkness in his eyes that she had seen in the ninth's and in her own Doctor's. She assumed it was the Time War that had destroyed his openness of manner, knowing from her own experience of PTSD that a truly traumatic experience, such as seeing your planet destroyed (whether by increments at the hands of someone like the Master, or all in one go at your own hands), had a profound effect on the psyche. At least the Earth had been restored when the Doctor had rewound Time: Gallifrey remained lost and inaccessible thanks to the Time Lock, unless you wanted to risk madness as Dalek Caan had done.

Martha didn't hear the Doctor return, so lost was she in her thoughts, but a gentle touch of his hand on hers made her aware that he was there; she opened her eyes and found him giving her a concerned look.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah." She scrubbed at her eyes with her hand, and was surprised to find tears on her cheeks. She dug in her jeans pocket for a tissue, but he offered her a handkerchief.

"Here."

"Thank you." She managed to smile up at him.

"You will find him," he said positively.

"Oh that wasn't – I mean, I know I will. I have to."

He sat down and poured two cups of tea and Martha absent-mindedly noticed that he'd brought proper teacups and saucers, a large plateful of sandwiches and a fruit cake. She couldn't help smiling when she realised they were cucumber sandwiches, cut into triangles. There were linen napkins and a silver teapot on the tray too, and her smile widened into an outright grin.

The Doctor offered her a cup and saucer, smiling in return. "That's better."

"Thank you." She took the cup and added milk and sugar to her tea.

"Help yourself," he told her, gesturing at the sandwiches and offering her a plate.

"Thanks." She set down the cup and saucer and accepted the plate, then took a couple of the sandwiches.

"I advise you to eat plenty. Travelling through the Vortex without a vessel is an exhausting business."

Martha nodded her thanks as she began to eat, and the Doctor started talking about various people and aliens he had encountered in the past. She listened, fascinated, to his accounts of Silurians and Yeti, Daleks and Cybermen, Axons and Terileptils. He talked of meeting Marco Polo, the Emperor Nero, Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday.

By the time he had finished, Martha had eaten her fill of sandwiches and cake, and drunk two cups of tea.

"Why were you crying earlier?" he asked. "You started to say that you weren't crying about finding me."

"I don't think I can tell you," she answered. "It's something related to your future, something that happened before I met you, the incarnation I know, and something that happened to both of us." She sighed heavily.

The Doctor got up and knelt in front of her chair, taking both of her hands in his. "My dear Martha, you must not worry about what is still to come for me. As for what happened to you when you were with me, I am sorry to think that you had to suffer anything as a result of knowing me, but your willingness to search for my later incarnation tells me that you are strong and brave – and loyal too, perhaps more loyal than I deserve. I have faith in you succeeding in your search."

She blinked back another prickle of tears, his words soothing the hurt that she had been carrying around since Tom had told her that he didn't believe her stories.

"Do you want to get some rest before you continue your search for me, I mean, the incarnation you are searching for?"

She bit her bottom lip, considering. It was tempting to stay and spend more time with this incarnation of the Doctor, but she suspected that staying longer would only make leaving later that much harder.

"No, thank you. I should be moving on. I've got no idea who took him or where, but the fact that he was taken 'for revenge' suggests too many bad things for me to want to delay any longer." She managed a smile. "Thank you for the food – and the stories."

He got up. "Let me recalibrate Jack's computer, then, and why don't you cut some of that cake to take with you?" he suggested, pulling some greaseproof paper from his jacket pocket.

"Thanks." Martha accepted the paper, then gave him the wrist computer, and while he adjusted the controls with his sonic, she got up and cut two thick slices of cake, which she wrapped and pocketed. Her fingers brushed against the apple that she had been given by the fifth incarnation of the Doctor and she remembered she did not know which incarnation she had found this time.

"Which incarnation are you?" she asked, taking the wrist computer from him and strapping it on.

"This is my eighth body," he told her. He hesitated a moment, then pulled her into a hug, which she returned, clinging tightly to him for a few moments before letting him go.

"Thank you for everything," she said.

He kissed her forehead. "Thank you for being such a good friend. Travel safely."

She nodded, then hurried out of the TARDIS before she could change her mind about staying any longer.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: A Shift in Perspective

Author: Persiflage_1

Characters/Pairings: Martha, Second Doctor, Tenth Doctor, The Brigadier, Sgt Benton, Zoe

Rating: G

Spoilers: The Web of Fear, The Wheel in Space, The Invasion, S4

Summary: The Tenth Doctor goes missing and it's up to Martha Jones to track him down again, but it proves both harder and more instructive than she expects.

Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!

* * * * * *

Martha's next jump was greeted with cries of alarm and a voice shouting "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!", but the instruction came too late because she felt a sharp pain in her left shoulder and heard the report of a gun. She struggled to focus on her surroundings even as darkness was overtaking her senses, and she caught a brief glimpse of a small man with a Beatles haircut and a look of shock on his face before she crashed unconscious to the ground.

When Martha came to again it was with a hiss of pain and she immediately reached over to her left shoulder to find a large dressing secured there. She squinted through half open eyes and found the man with the Beatles haircut watching her anxiously.

"How are you my dear?" he asked, patting her arm with nervous, fluttery gestures.

"Doctor?" she asked, remembering the third incarnation's reference to a fidgety little man.

He smiled, brightening his lugubrious expression. "Yes, that's me. I'm terribly sorry about your shoulder. I'm afraid the Brigadier's men are rather jumpy just at the moment."

"The Brigadier?" asked Martha, not quite daring to believe he meant Sir Alistair, even though she knew he'd known the Doctor for many years.

"That's me," said another voice from behind the Time Lord.

Martha felt her heart thumping at the sight of this younger version of the man she admired. He looked at least forty years younger: his hair and moustache were dark and neat, and his back was ramrod straight. His uniform was crisp and smart, and he had a swagger stick tucked under one arm. He looked the epitome of a no-nonsense military man, and Martha found herself sitting up to salute him.

"Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. Dr Martha Jones, UNIT MO, reporting, sir."

He and the Doctor swapped looks of surprise before the Brigadier spoke.

"No need for that young lady," he assured her, "not when you're sick. I must apologise for my chap's lack of discipline, and I can assure you that he will be punished for his precipitate response."

"Oh, but it wasn't his fault," she objected quickly. "I'm sure he was just doing his job."

"Nevertheless, he had no business shooting an unarmed woman, no matter how sudden or unconventional the manner of her arrival."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," she said, feeling awkward.

"May we ask how it was possible for you to appear in such a manner?" asked the Doctor, looking very interested.

"You might want to sit down," she suggested. "It's a bit of a long story."

She waited while they both fetched chairs, taking the chance to have a proper look at her surroundings: she was in a small, white room which contained three beds but had no windows. The other two beds were empty, and the room looked similar to her own infirmary, apart from the lack of windows.

"By the way, where am I?" she asked as the Doctor and the Brigadier settled themselves beside her bed.

"This is a mobile UNIT HQ," the Brigadier told her. "We're actually onboard a Hercules transport plane."

She blinked, then nodded: that explained the lack of windows. By her day UNIT tended not use aircraft as mobile HQs except in emergency situations overseas.

"You were going to tell us your story," the Doctor reminded her gently.

"Yes, of course." She frowned, forcing herself to concentrate despite the dull ache in her shoulder and the lingering effects of the anaesthetic she'd been given when they'd removed the bullet, then she began her narrative. She was reminded of her year walking the world, telling the same story over and over again, but at least she wasn't being chased by Toclafane this time.

The two men listened with rapt attention: the Doctor seemed fascinated by her account, but she could tell the Brigadier was a little more sceptical, and she reminded herself that at this point he didn't have decades of experience of dealing with either the Doctor or the dozens of alien incursions that would happen between now and the time when she had met him in the aftermath of the ATMOS affair.

This Doctor also did not have centuries of experience behind him, and instead of the pain and darkness she was used to seeing in her Doctor's eyes, there was a child-like wonder lurking in his expression. He might have a naturally mournful face, but his eyes weren't haunted by loss and loneliness. She found herself wondering where his travelling companion was, and if there was more than one of them again.

"Well this is an incredible tale," observed the Brigadier, breaking the thoughtful silence that had followed the conclusion of Martha's narrative.

"Do you know who might have been responsible for kidnapping you, your later incarnation, I mean?" she asked the Doctor.

The little man shook his head sadly. "I am afraid not my dear."

She sighed quietly. "I guess I'll just have to keep searching for him then."

"I don't think you should go anywhere just yet though," he said. "After all, it's only a few hours since you were shot."

Martha opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the Brigadier interjected. "The Doctor is quite right. I cannot allow you to leave until my own MO assures me you're fit again."

"But that could take days," she protested, horrified.

The Doctor gave her a smile. "You can leave in a few hours time," he told her. "After the bullet was removed, I treated your wound myself. You just need some food and a few hours rest, and then you can be on your way again."

"Thank you."

"I'll send one of the chaps in with some food shortly," the Brigadier said. "It'll only be the usual Army fare, I'm afraid, but at least it will be hot."

She smiled up at him. "Hot food would be lovely, thank you."

"I will come back and see you again before you leave," the Doctor said, patting her hand.

Martha nodded gratefully, then slid down the bed to lie back, tired from her storytelling and the emergency surgery she'd received; the two men went out and she soon drifted off to sleep.

She was woken again some time later by someone discreetly clearing their throat, and she opened her eyes to see a face she recognised but could not immediately place.

"Hello Miss, sorry, Dr Jones," the young man corrected himself hastily. "The Brig sent me in with some food for you."

"Oh yes, thank you." She struggled to sit up and he immediately set down the tray he'd been carrying and moved to help her.

"Let me," he offered. She nodded and he helped her to sit up, then rearranged her pillows to support her back, before moving a table on an arm over the bed and putting the tray of food on it.

"I know your face," she said, looking up at him as he moved away.

He gave her a startled look. "You do?"

She nodded. "I can't recall your name, but I've seen your face somewhere before."

"My name's Benton miss, John Benton."

"Of course!" exclaimed Martha, excitedly. "Sergeant Benton!"

He blushed. "I'm not a Sergeant, just a Corporal."

"Not yet, maybe," she answered, "but you will be."

He was still blushing, she noticed, but she managed to persuade him to sit down and talk to her. "That's if you're not busy," she said belatedly, not wanting to get him into trouble.

"No, I'm free at the moment," he said shyly.

"Then stay and keep me company, please."

He agreed and she began to ask him questions as she ate the bowl of stew he'd brought for her. She soon discovered that he had a younger sister, and that this was his first encounter with the Doctor. He told her that he'd only been a member of UNIT for a little while since the organisation itself was still in its early days, and she found that he thought very highly of the Brigadier and that he considered the Doctor 'a queer sort of chap', but liked him immensely.

"He's got a real hang-dog face," Benton observed of the Doctor, "but there's – " he paused, as if embarrassed.

"Go on," Martha urged. "I won't repeat anything you say to me, I promise."

He gave her a grateful smile. "There's a mischievous look in his eyes sometimes," Benton said.

She smiled. "I noticed that too. This one still knows how to have fun."

"This one?" he asked curiously.

"Oh!" Belatedly Martha realised that he probably didn't know anything about the Doctor regenerating. He was giving an expectant look and she chewed at her lip for a moment.

"I can't explain what I mean, sorry," she said apologetically. "It might interfere with the timeline – even my being here at this moment is interfering."

"I understand Miss."

"Thank you." She gave him a smile and he blushed faintly again, which she found mildly amusing: somehow she tended not to think of soldiers blushing. Then she remembered Private Ross Jenkins who had, as her mother might have said, been a bit smitten with her when she'd first joined UNIT.

"Are you okay Miss?" asked Benton, interrupting Martha's melancholy remembrance.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, pushing aside the memory of attending Ross' funeral shortly after her impromptu trip to Messaline with the Doctor and Donna: there were too many sad memories there, of Ross, Jenny and Donna.

Martha finished her coffee and allowed Benton to remove the tray. "Thank you, and thank you for staying to talk to me."

"My pleasure Miss." He ducked his head to her, then went out, and she slid back down into the bed again.

* * * * * *

Martha slept for a couple of hours and she hadn't long woken up again when a young woman, barely out of her teens, came in trailing a feather boa that was wrapped stylishly around her neck. She gave Martha a bright smile and offered her a hand.

"Hello, I'm Zoe. The Doctor thought you might like some company."

Martha shook hands, noting the intelligent gaze that was trained on her. "Martha Jones," she said.

"The Doctor said you're from the future too," Zoe said casually.

"Too?" asked Martha. "You mean – you're not native to this era?"

The younger woman shook her head. "I'm from the 21st century. The Doctor and Jamie, that's his other companion, came to the Earth Space Station W3 where I was working. The Cybermen attacked it and killed all of the crew, except me."

"I'm sorry," Martha said. "I guess the Doctor rescued you then?"

"Oh no," Zoe said blithely. "I stowed away on his ship, the TARDIS, before they left, and after he found me he agreed that I could travel with them."

Martha blinked in surprise at this revelation. "Why did you stow away?"

"I wanted to see what was outside the Wheel. I grew up there, you know, and some of the station staff thought I was too unemotional because of my training – "

"Your training?" interrupted Martha, puzzled.

The younger woman nodded. "I'm an astrophysicist with a photographic memory and a degree in pure mathematics. I can perform complicated calculations at great speed and with 100% accuracy." Her face fell for a moment. "Leo Ryan said I was all brain and no heart."

Martha cocked an eyebrow at her, looking thoughtful. "How long have you been travelling with the Doctor?"

Zoe shrugged. "A few months, I think. It's hard to tell when you're on the TARDIS."

The young doctor nodded. "I know what you mean. Still, I doubt that your travels with the Doctor have failed to affect you. In my experience it tends to have a considerable impact." She chewed her lip for a moment. "Have the Doctor or Jamie given you the impression they think that you're heartless?"

Zoe shook her head. "No, they haven't."

"Then I wouldn't worry about it," advised Martha. "Why don't you tell me more about the space station? It hasn't happened yet for me."

"Okay," Zoe said brightly, settling into the chair that Benton had vacated earlier.

She began to tell Martha about the staff on the Wheel: Leo Ryan, a fair-haired giant who was handsome, confident and cheerful, but a little arrogant; Tanya Lernov, an attractive, fair haired young woman who was pleasant and claimed to follow her nose; Gemma Corwyn, a pleasant, sensible woman in her mid-thirties who was the Wheel's medical officer; Enrico Casali, the brown-eyed, curly-haired communications officer who was from an Italian family; and Jarvis Bennett, the Wheel's commander, a stocky, bearded, balding man who had been disinclined to believe in the existence of the Cybermen until it was too late.

"He was a sceptic," Zoe explained. "He simply couldn't accept the existence of phenomena outside the laws of science as we know them."

Martha frowned. "Not the best trait for a man in charge of a deep space station," she observed.

"No. Of course, he was forced to believe when the station was attacked by the Cybermen."

Martha couldn't help shuddering a little, remembering the Cybermen and Daleks battling at Canary Wharf, having to treat the injured in the aftermath, and discovering that her cousin Adeola had been killed by the Cybermen. She and Addy had been great friends as children – the fact that they looked more like twins than cousins had made them feel drawn to each other.

"Are you okay?" Zoe asked softly, her face full of concern as she interrupted Martha's train of thought.

"Yeah. I lost my cousin, she was killed by Cybermen," she explained, "mention of them gives me the shudders."

"Oh I am sorry!" exclaimed Zoe, looking remorseful.

"It's not your fault, you weren't to know, after all." She smiled and patted the younger woman's hand. "And your concern for me proves quite definitively that you're not 'all brain and no heart'."

Zoe smiled. "Thank you."

"Thank you. It was very interesting to learn of the Wheel. I'm just sorry that you lost your friends there."

"But if I hadn't, I probably would never have left the Wheel, or got to explore with Jamie and the Doctor."

"Well yes, that's true," Martha agreed thoughtfully.

Zoe got up. "I think I'll go and see if Jamie's awake yet," she said, "and leave you to rest again."

"Okay. Thanks for keeping me company," Martha said, shaking Zoe's hand. "Take care of yourself, and the Doctor and Jamie."

"Thank you. And you must be careful looking for the Doctor." She tripped out, looking sprightly and cheerful, and Martha watched her go with a smile, before settling back against her pillows again.

She noticed that her shoulder wasn't aching as much now, and felt grateful for whatever the Doctor had done to it after the bullet had been removed.

As if in answer to her thought, the door opened again, and the Doctor came in, smiling in a pleased fashion when he saw her sitting up.

"How are you feeling my dear?" he asked solicitously.

"Not too bad, thank you," she answered cheerfully.

"Good, good." He settled into a chair with a gentle smile. "I think you are very brave, you know, to go jumping through Time in search of me. I trust that I will thank you properly for displaying such courage."

Martha looked away, embarrassed by his proud expression and the compliment. "It's nothing," she said.

The Doctor reached out and took both her hands in his. "On the contrary, my dear, it is a very great thing. Travelling through the Time Vortex, where you might encounter all manner of creatures, while protected by nothing more than this device of your friend's – " He broke off, shaking his head. "I hardly like to think about it," he said.

"I've been okay so far," Martha said, "although I could have done without getting shot by the Brigadier's men."

He turned his mournful gaze on her. "And that's another thing," he said. "You said you were mistaken for an assassin by my next incarnation's travelling companion – you're very fortunate that you've only been shot once so far. It seems to me that I will continue to work with UNIT in the future, and you run the risk, therefore, of being shot again if I am with them. I think it would be a good idea to protect yourself against such risks."

"What can I do, though?" asked Martha.

"Well, I've been thinking about that," the Doctor answered. "You could wear a bullet-proof vest, but that doesn't protect the whole of your body. I propose, therefore, to adjust the controls on your friend's device so that it will shield you even when you're not in the Time Vortex."

"Thank you," she said, grateful for his proposal.

At his request she unstrapped Jack's wrist computer and passed it over, then watched in silent fascination as he pulled out an old-fashioned jeweller's eyepiece and his sonic screwdriver, and set to work.

After twenty minutes he pocketed the sonic and the eyepiece, then handed back the device.

"There you are, my dear. It won't stop everything, I'm afraid, but if anyone shoots at you, it will deaden the impact of the bullet. I cannot adjust it to bounce the bullet back in case it rebounds on whomever fires on you. Therefore, if you are shot, it will feel like someone has punched you, which will be painful, obviously, but not as painful as if the bullet actually penetrated your body. I have also adjusted it so that you will not encounter me again."

Martha strapped on the wrist computer again feeling grateful and relieved for his assistance.

"Thank you very much Doctor." Impulsively she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then smiled at the flustered expression on his face.

"Really my dear, it is quite the least I can do for you. I wish I could do more to help you."

"Well I'm grateful for what you have done. Every little helps, as the saying goes."

He beamed at her. "Now, I am afraid you must excuse me. I have other urgent matters to attend to. But I wish you luck in your search for me, and when you find him, tell him that I said he is to thank you properly. Dinner on Florana or something, and do not let him fob you off." He gave her a stern look. "I shall be very disappointed in you if you do."

Martha laughed softly. "I promise."

"Good girl." He stood up, took both her hands in his again, then leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "Look after yourself Martha Jones, and travel safely."

"Thank you, I'll do my best."

He smiled, squeezed her fingers, then bustled out, leaving her smiling fondly as she watched him go. He was quite the sweetest incarnation she had encountered so far, although his eighth incarnation came a very close second.

A few minutes after the Doctor departed, the Brigadier returned with another man in tow. The second man, a cheerful looking red-haired, green-eyed man asked her a few questions, checked the mobility of her arm and shoulder, then told her to be careful what she did with it, before bustling out again.

Martha wasn't sure whether to be cheered or alarmed by his insouciant manner, but the Brigadier seemed to regard it as perfectly normal, so she swallowed her misgivings and gave him an expectant look.

He sat down at her bedside. "Before you head off again, I thought you might be interested to learn about the origins of UNIT."

"I'd be very interested," Martha said promptly. "I've heard the bare bones history, I was given that when I joined, but that's not the same as hearing it from – if you'll forgive the expression – the horse's mouth."

He chuckled. "I'll forgive you," he assured her.

"I was just a Colonel the first time I met the Doctor, and London was under attack from something that I later found out was called the Great Intelligence, a disembodied entity that used robot Yeti and human servants that had been possessed to do its will. The Doctor and a scientist called Professor Travers were able to overcome it, sent it packing back into space, but I realised that now that the space program was in operation, we needed to have a central organisation to deal with intelligence about potential alien threats, and eventually, after some pestering of various government officials, UNIT was created."

The Brigadier went on to talk about the organisation of UNIT, its structure and chains of command, and Martha listened with rapt attention, surprising herself with how interesting she found this impromptu history lesson.

"I hope I haven't bored you with all this history?" the Brigadier asked when he'd finished. "You shouldn't have let me go on at such length."

"It was interesting," Martha answered truthfully. "Thank you for telling me."

"My pleasure Dr Jones." He got up and shook hands with her. "Good luck in your search for the Doctor."

"Thank you sir."

The Brigadier gave her a nod, then marched out, his swagger stick tucked under his arm. Now that she'd been given permission to leave, Martha was eager to be on her way again: she had no idea still where to find the Doctor or what was happening to him, but her sense of urgency had not lessened.

She got up and got dressed again, then set the controls on Jack's wrist computer to make the next jump.

* * * * * *

**On Skra**

The Doctor had been left by himself for three hours after he'd finished eating and he was feeling very bored. He'd tried reading, but his head still ached from the effects of the red line, so he'd put the book back in his coat pocket.

He'd played with his yo-yo for a bit, and eaten some jelly babies – but not too many as he didn't want them to run out before he was off Skra. Now he was playing cat's cradle with a length of string he'd found in his other pocket and wondering why he kept thinking Martha was going to appear at any moment. It was very distracting (he'd tied his fingers together twice), but he had this strange image of her in his head: she was appearing out of nowhere in a burst of blue light, like the light of the Vortex when the TARDIS travelled into the past.

He was distracted from pondering this baffling image by the sound of footsteps and he looked up to see Slavin crossing the room towards him. He immediately shoved the tangled string into his coat pocket and got to his feet.

"My master has arrived," Slavin said.

"Oh that's nice," said the Doctor cheerfully. "I look forward to meeting him and having a bit of chat, then we can sort out this nonsense and I can be on my way again."

"Silence!" snarled his captor. "You will come with me and if you are wise, you will hope that my master is inclined to be merciful, otherwise the remainder of your stay will be filled with enough pain that you will wish he had destroyed you centuries ago."

The Time Lord pulled an exaggeratedly dismal face, but didn't speak as Slavin grasped his elbow in a vice-like grip and lead him across the floor. He couldn't helping hesitating a bit as they approached the red line, but Slavin sneered at him, so he kept moving, trying not to brace himself for pain in spite of his instincts.

They stepped across the line and the Doctor let out a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding; he was half tempted to try his luck and make a dash for it, but Slavin must have guessed that he would consider it because he tightened his grip on the Doctor's arm until the Time Lord began to feel his fingers starting to go numb.

Slavin led him out of the room where he'd been held, then along two corridors and up a flight of stairs, emerging into a wide room that was cold, dank and poorly lit. The Doctor was tempted to comment on the lack of amenities, but managed to bite his tongue even though that went against the grain in this incarnation.

He was guided over to an upright wooden chair with arms, to which Slavin strapped the Time Lord's own arms and wrists, pulling the restraints uncomfortably tight.

"My master will be here in a moment," Slavin said, looking quite gleeful at the prospect, which didn't inspire any confidence in the Doctor.

"Well I can't say I'm looking forward to it," he replied.

A door opened on the opposite side of the room and Slavin stepped aside to allow the Time Lord to see who had ordered his capture.

"You've changed your face again, Doctor, I see. But you're still the same do-gooding nuisance you've always been, and still incapable of heeding warnings."

"The Black Guardian?" the Doctor said, disbelievingly.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: A Shift in Perspective

Author: Persiflage_1

Characters/Pairings: Martha, Fourth Doctor, Tenth Doctor, UNIT, Sarah Jane, Black Guardian

Rating: PG (Rated for violence)

Spoilers: Robot, Season 3, The Stolen Earth

Summary: The Tenth Doctor goes missing and it's up to Martha Jones to track him down again, but it proves both harder and more instructive than she expects.

Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!

Author Notes: This is the sixth chapter in a ten chapter story that's set a couple of months after S4. Credit goes to lj user=box_in_the_box for suggesting the villain of the piece.

* * * * * *

**On Skra**

The Doctor looked up into the deeply lined imperturbable face of the Black Guardian, taking in the half-forgotten sight of the raven headdress and the glossy, ermined-lined black robes that the other wore.

"You were warned," the Black Guardian said, his rumbling voice seeming to echo through Time, "that thwarting me again would leave me angrier than before. Now you will pay for your previous insolence. I am only sorry that your foolish companions, the boy and the girl, are not here also to receive their just punishment."

The Doctor's mind flashed back to the last time that he'd seen Turlough and Tegan, and he blinked hard, forcing down his emotions.

"Personally, I'm glad they're not here," the Time Lord said.

The Black Guardian sneered. "You always did have an alarmingly high tolerance for those of the lesser races, like Trions and Humans. I never did understand why you bothered with them."

The Doctor scowled. "I'm not surprised, You don't see the value of much besides chaos, disorder and darkness. You can't keep me here, you know."

"Oh, but I can. No one except we three knows where you are – and even you don't know your exact location."

"It doesn't matter," the Time Lord asserted confidently. "There are people out there who know I'm missing, people who care enough to come looking for me."

The Black Guardian laughed mirthlessly. "Even if anyone should succeed in finding you, which you should not count on, it will do you no good Doctor. I will not be letting you or anyone else leave here alive. Accept the facts, Doctor, your days are numbered and Slavin here will ensure that the few that remain are as unpleasant as possible. Believe me when I say that you will regret thwarting me, Time Lord, you just won't have long to live with those regrets.

He turned and stalked away, disappearing through the wall, rather than pretending to use the door as he had before.

Slavin gave the Doctor a vicious smile before backhanding him so hard that he blacked out.

* * * * * *

**On Earth**

Martha's next jump was greeted with a squeal of brakes and shouts of alarm, and she opened her eyes in time to see an open-backed jeep containing three men hurtling past her towards the steep grassy bank at the side of the road. The driver hauled madly on the wheel and managed to avoid crashing, but he scraped the wing of the jeep along the grass before stopping.

She stumbled forward on still-shaky legs to be confronted by an angry-looking man with wildly curly hair and bulging eyes, who was wearing a brown hat and a ridiculously long scarf, and she knew he must be the Doctor. Then she spotted the other two men over his shoulder and gasped when she realised one of them was Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, a few years older than when she'd seen him just now. She didn't know the second man, but did notice that he was wearing a navy blue jacket and a peaked cap, and she felt her heart speed up a little at the sight of him.

"You again!" exclaimed the Doctor once he was in hailing distance.

Martha blinked, surprised: this was the first time that any of the Doctor's incarnations had recognised her, and she felt rather disconcerted.

"Doctor. Brigadier. Lieutenant." She had to quickly shuffle through her knowledge of ranks and the sleeve stripes used to denote them before she acknowledged the third man, who was staring at her open-mouthed in astonishment, presumably because of her dramatic arrival.

"Dr Jones," the Brigadier acknowledged, apparently as imperturbable as ever.

Martha couldn't help saluting him, even though he wasn't her commanding officer.

"This is Lieutenant Harry Sullivan, UNIT's current MO." The Brigadier turned to the sailor. "This is Dr Martha Jones, UNIT's MO in the early 21st century."

"You're a time-traveller too?" asked Harry as he shook hands.

"At the moment," she answered, watching the Doctor from the corner of her eye: she thought he didn't look very pleased to see her.

"You'd better get in," the Time Lord said, gesturing at the jeep.

"Thank you." She followed the three men over to the vehicle.

"You had better travel in the front with the Doctor," the Brigadier said as the Time Lord swung himself into the driver's seat.

"I'll be fine in the back, thank you." She smiled up at him and he gave her the tiniest of winks.

"May I offer you some assistance?" asked Harry, with what Martha considered to be old-fashioned courtesy.

"Thanks, but I can manage," she assured him, before expertly swinging herself up into the back of the jeep.

"Oh I say," murmured Harry, before joining her.

"How is your shoulder Dr Jones?" called the Brigadier from the front of the jeep as the Doctor started it up again.

"Still a bit stiff and achy," she told him, "but I'll live."

"You must let Dr Sullivan look at it before you go off again," the Brigadier said.

"What happened to your shoulder?" asked Harry curiously.

"I got shot by one of the Brigadier's men," she told him.

"Oh my!" He looked quite horrified by this revelation and Martha found herself wondering just how much experience he had as UNIT's MO if he was so easily shocked.

The journey passed without conversation since the jeep was quite noisy, particularly given the speed at which the Doctor was driving.

When they reached UNIT HQ they were met by a harassed-looking Sergeant Benton who couldn't help doing a double take at the sight of Martha, but he didn't otherwise acknowledge her presence, instead hurrying after the Doctor who had stalked off down the corridor, his scarf trailing behind him like a bizarre sort of wedding train.

The Brigadier turned to Martha and Harry. "Sullivan, why don't you take Dr Jones to the sick bay and check her shoulder wound, and then go down to the canteen for something to eat. Come and see me in my office afterwards, and in the meantime I'll talk to the Doctor." He spoke confidentially to Martha. "He's just regenerated and he's a bit tetchy about that and the current case."

She nodded her understanding.

"Sullivan here will look after you." He turned to Harry. "Dr Jones is on a very important mission and it's vital that she receives the best possible care for the sake of everyone."

Martha felt her cheeks heating up at the Brigadier's words, and hoped her darker skin would hide her blushes.

"Oh golly!" said Harry, directing an awed look at her.

"So I'm entrusting Dr Jones to her care, Sullivan."

Harry gave the Brigadier a smart salute, then turned to Martha and offered her his arm, which she accepted, suppressing a smile. The Brigadier strode off down the corridor that the Doctor and Sergeant Benton had taken, but Harry led Martha down a different corridor.

"So you're a naval officer?" Martha asked. "Doesn't that get confusing – I mean, do I address you as Doctor or Lieutenant?"

He gave her a warm smile. "I don't mind," he told her, "but you could – " He stopped suddenly, looking faintly embarrassed.

"I could what?" asked Martha, thinking _First Sergeant Benton, now Dr Sullivan_, and wondering why she seemed to fluster these UNIT men. She could have understood it if she was as pretty as Tish: her elder sister only had to look at a man to make him go weak at the knees.

"You could call me Harry," he said in a rush. "If you don't think that's too forward of me, Dr Jones?"

"I tell you what, I'll call you Harry if you'll call me Martha," she suggested, grinning.

He tugged at the collar of his shirt as if it was suddenly too tight, then agreed. "The sick bay is in here," he told her, stopping and opening a swing door, then gesturing for her to precede him.

Martha stepped through the doors and looked around, noting that it didn't look too dissimilar to the various UNIT infirmaries in which she had worked.

"It's all a bit outdated to you, I expect," Harry said.

"Actually early 21st century medical equipment isn't vastly different, we just use a lot more computers and computerised equipment than you do."

She thought fleetingly of the really advanced equipment that had been destroyed by the Daleks when they had stormed the UNIT HQ in Manhattan. Equipment could be replaced, of course, unlike personnel, and for all he'd been a bit sarcastic and tetchy, Martha had liked General Sanchez, and deeply regretted his death by the Daleks while she had escaped. It had been too much like people dying on her behalf during that awful year.

Martha blinked, forcing those memories back behind their walls and looked up to see Harry gazing at her, an expression of concern on his face.

"I say, are you all right?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes," she answered, "just remembering something."

He guided her over to one of the beds and she sat down a little heavily, removing her coat while Harry pulled the privacy curtains around the bed, even though the sick bay was currently empty.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing at the dressing on her shoulder, and she noticed that his tone and manner had become brisk and professional now.

She nodded, and tried not to start or shiver when he touched her shoulder, but she did grit her teeth when he began to unpeel the dressing.

"How exactly did this happen?" he asked, peering closely at the neat stitching. "You said you were shot by one of the Brigadier's men."

"I've been jumping through Time and Space, trying to find the incarnation of the Doctor I know, and on my last jump I landed in a mobile UNIT HQ in the midst of yet another crisis – probably an attempted alien invasion. Since, as you saw, I tend to appear abruptly out of nowhere, one of the Brigadier's men reacted too quickly, despite the Doctor's instructions not to shoot, so he fired and I was hit."

"That must have been terrifying," Harry said sympathetically.

Martha laughed softly. "How long have you been working with UNIT Dr Sullivan?"

He gave her a puzzled look. "A little while."

"Well when you've been working them for some time, you'll soon find that being shot is probably a lot less terrifying than it seems, at least compared to all the other things that could happen to you while you're out in the field."

He glanced at her as he finished redressing her shoulder. "How long have you worked for UNIT?"

"About 18 months, but I travelled with the Doctor before that and I gained a lot of field experience – that's how I ended up with UNIT." She gave him a slightly brittle smile. "After all I'd seen and done, I couldn't really imagine settling down to a regular career."

She pulled the strap back up on her t-shirt, then put on her jacket before giving him an expectant look.

"Ah yes," he said, remembering the rest of the Brigadier's instructions for Martha's 'care'.

She followed him out of the sick bay and through the maze of corridors to the canteen.

"I always wonder why they insisted on building this place with so many corridors," Harry commented as he opened the canteen door and waited for Martha to go in.

"It's to confuse the enemy, should they infiltrate: the intention is that an enemy will lose their way before they reach any strategically significant areas," Martha answered almost absent-mindedly as she noticed the handful of soldiers who had all looked up at her entrance, and were now staring at her with ill-disguised interest.

She saw Harry staring impassively at them, and everyone's attention quickly went back to whatever they'd been doing before she had walked in with him.

He led her over to the counter and got them a pot of tea and a plate of sandwiches, and Martha abruptly remembered there were still two slices of cake in her jacket pocket. She swallowed a lump of emotion at the thought of the Doctor's eighth incarnation, so gentle and caring, and with such horrors still to come. Walking away from him had been the hardest decision she'd made since embarking on this quest, even though he hadn't been vulnerable like the third, or broken and needy like the ninth.

"Martha. Dr Jones?"

She suddenly realised Harry was talking to her, his expression anxious as he peered at her across the table.

"Sorry, you were saying?"

"I just wanted to know how you take your tea?" he asked.

"Oh, milk and two sugars please." She rubbed a hand over her face, realising that this search for 'her' Doctor was proving to be emotionally as well as physically challenging, which she hadn't anticipated when she'd insisted to Jack that she should be the one to look for the Doctor.

Martha accepted the mug of tea that Harry gave her and sought for a topic of conversation that would distract her from her memories. Before she could think of anything, Sergeant Benton hurried into the canteen and quickly joined them.

"I say, old chap, are you all right?" asked Harry in some concern, seeing how harried Benton looked.

He nodded. "It's the Doctor. He's in a bit of a tear. Apparently Miss Smith isn't back yet from her visit to that Think Tank lot, and he wants her for something. And – " He hesitated, looking away from Martha's steady gaze.

"And he's not happy to see me, is he?" she guessed.

"It's not exactly that, Miss. It's just that he remembers meeting you before, and he was muttering something about his earlier incarnations being sentimental old fools, especially the last one." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Apparently you met him after Miss Grant announced her engagement?"

Martha nodded. "Perhaps I should go and see him, get it over with?" she suggested.

"I don't think the Brigadier feels that's a good idea, Miss. He suggested that I escort you to his office once you're suitably refreshed, and that Dr Sullivan goes to see the Doctor."

"Me? Oh I say!" Harry looked rather alarmed at the idea, which surprised Martha.

"He's not likely to be violent, is he?"

"Oh no, I shouldn't think so," answered Harry hastily. "It's just that, well, he tied me up and hung me in a cupboard the last time I tried to assert my medical authority over him.

Benton looked away, his mouth twitching with amusement, but Martha managed to keep her expression under control as she sympathised with Harry.

"I'm sure a brave sailor like you will manage," she said, teasing him just a little.

He gave her an uncertain look, as if he wasn't sure whether she was teasing or mocking him, but she gave him a warm smile and he immediately blushed.

"Better do as the old man asked," Benton advised him, "and I'll take Dr Jones to see the Brigadier."

Harry heaved himself out of his chair. "If he ties me up again, I'll – " He broke off as if aware there was very little he could do in such circumstances. He nodded to Martha. "I will see you later Dr Jones."

Martha got to her feet also. "I hope so, Dr Sullivan." Then she ruined the formality of their parting by stretching up to kiss his cheek, giving him a wink before she headed out of the door, leaving Harry and Benton staring at each other in surprise while the rest of the soldiers cheered and whistled.

"I say!" exclaimed Harry, both pleased and embarrassed. Benton gave him a grin, then hurried after Martha who he found looking rather embarrassed as she waited outside the canteen for him, having realised she needed Benton to escort her to the Brigadier's office.

"If you don't mind me saying so, Miss, you seem to cause quite a stir whenever you turn up," observed the Sergeant as they set off down the corridor. He sneaked a sidelong glance at Martha's face and saw she was looking both embarrassed and amused.

"I do, don't I?" she agreed. "I hope the men won't rib Harry too much about that."

Benton chuckled. "I daresay they will, but I'm sure he'd rather be teased about being kissed by a pretty girl than about being tied up in a cupboard by the Doctor, so you've done him a favour really."

"Good." She smiled with satisfaction. "By the way, the last time I saw you there was a big flap on – what was it all about?"

"Oh the boss of International Electronics, the really big electronics firm, was in league with the Cybermen and they tried to invade."

"Cybermen," Martha said quietly, shuddering a little at the name.

"You all right Miss?" Benton asked anxiously. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

She nodded. "I'm okay, thank you John. Sorry, I shouldn't call you John, should I?"

"I don't mind," he answered truthfully. "Here's the Brigadier's office." He knocked and they were bidden to enter.

"Ah Dr Jones, have a seat," invited the Brigadier. "That will be all for now, Sergeant."

"Yes sir." Benton nodded to Martha, who gave him a smile, before turning her attention to the Brigadier."

* * * * * *

**On Skra**

Slavin dumped the Doctor's unconscious body on the floor in the corner of his cell, then stalked out.

A few minutes later the Time Lord came to with a groan, his eyes screwed shut against the pain that was wracking his body. It felt as if Slavin had broken at least two ribs this session; that was in addition to breaking all the fingers on his right hand, and it felt like he had two black eyes to go with his broken nose and split lips. He wondered how much more his body could take before it succumbed to his injuries: the prospect of being forced to regenerate with neither the TARDIS nor friends on hand to help him was a far more terrifying prospect than anything he had considered just recently.

Then another, more frightening idea occurred to the Doctor: what if the Black Guardian had Slavin torture him to death until he could no longer regenerate? He couldn't help whimpering a little at this thought, and he curled himself up as far as possible, lost in black despair for a while.

As he lay there longing for a friendly voice or face an image of Martha swam into his mind: she was dressed as when he'd last seen her in Cardiff, wearing a dark red t-shirt, black trousers and her black jacket. She had a determined expression on her face and was strapping something to her wrist. With a jolt of surprised disbelief he suddenly recognised the device as Jack's wrist computer, and with that realisation a flood of memories filled his head: Martha Jones using Jack's Vortex manipulator to jump through Time and Space as she searched for him.

He remembered how comforting her presence had been after he'd parted company with Jo; how taken Harry Sullivan and Sergeant Benton had both been with her, and the Brigadier's intense pride in her as he'd argued with his fourth incarnation: she'd arrived only a short time after he'd regenerated into that scarf-wearing fellow with the bulging eyes and booming voice. Then he remembered how gentle and patient she'd been with his needy ninth self.

"Oh Martha," he whispered, as he remembered the way that she'd encouraged him to ask Rose to travel with him, and how had he repaid her for that life-saving suggestion? By constantly carping on about how wonderful Rose was once Martha was travelling with him.

He pulled himself up into a sitting position, resting his arms on his bent knees, and silently berated himself for his blind stupidity. Martha Jones had been consistently loyal, brave, patient and generous to him, and he'd treated her so badly; he really didn't deserve to have her friendship.

He heard the door of his cell open again and raised his head to look at Slavin through eyes that were half-closed by the beating he'd received.

His torturer set down a tray on the floor just inside the door, then went back out without a word: he seemed content to simply leer nastily at the Time Lord.

The Doctor waited until Slavin's footsteps had faded, then got up cautiously and made his way over to the door. The tray held the usual fare: a bowl of thin, grey gruel, a slab of very dry bread and a jug half full of ice-cold water.

Grimacing in disgust, the Doctor forced himself to eat, although he struggled with the bread even after he'd set it in the empty bowl and poured some water over it in an attempt to make it softer. He tried not to think longingly of thick, meaty stews, bread fresh from the oven, or full-bodied wines: that would be as much like torture as Slavin's attentions.

He tried, also, not to wonder where Martha was now: he had remembered that she was searching for him, but even if she did manage to find him, he wasn't sure what good it would do him. He was quite certain that Slavin and the Black Guardian would both do their utmost to ensure that Martha could not get him away again, and the thought of Slavin torturing Martha made his stomach churn so that he nearly threw up.

With a groan of despair he moved back across the cell and tried to lose himself in sleep, anything to stop his thoughts racing about like so many demented hamsters on wheels.

The Doctor fell into an uneasy sleep punctuated by dreams of Martha being tortured to death by Slavin and he woke abruptly with a cry of horror to find his torturer standing over him, ready to start a fresh round of torment.

* * * * * *

**On Earth**

Martha was sitting alone in the Brigadier's office when the door opened and a brown-haired young woman in a blue outfit entered, and she found herself confronting a young Sarah Jane Smith.

"Hello. The Brigadier thought you might like some company until the Doctor's ready to see you." She crossed the room and held out a hand to Martha, who barely restrained herself from leaping up and hugging the young journalist.

Instead, she stood up and shook hands, then gestured for Sarah Jane to take her seat.

"I'll be fine here," she said, perching on the edge of the Brigadier's desk, and giving Martha an expectant look.

"The Brigadier says you're a companion of the Doctor from the future?"

Martha nodded, immediately noticing how curious the other woman looked. "I'm from the 21st century," she said.

"Does everyone there have hover cars and jetpacks yet?" asked Sarah Jane eagerly.

Martha couldn't help laughing a little at that. "Sorry no, not yet. We've got other advanced technology, but not those."

"Oh well, never mind. What's he like, your Doctor?"

The young doctor chewed at her lip thoughtfully, wondering what to say; when Jo had asked her, she hadn't thought about not telling her, but she knew that Sarah Jane would be meeting the Doctor in his current incarnation at least twice: once when he was travelling with Rose, and again when the Daleks tried to destroy the universe.

Sarah Jane must have guessed why she was hesitating, because she spoke again. "Don't worry, I'll forget whatever you tell me – the Doctor's promised to make us all forget about meeting you in order to preserve the timelines."

Martha shrugged. "He's tall, not quite as tall as this one, I think, but much skinnier. He wears a suit and tie with Converse baseball boots. He's got brown eyes and wild brown hair that's always in disarray, which he makes worse by ruffling when he's thinking or agitated about something."

"Skinny, is he?" asked Sarah Jane musingly.

"Like a rake," Martha said, "but he's very strong – that sort of wiry strength you often find in tall, skinny men."

"How long did you travel with him?"

"For a while, but not as long as I might have done. I was a medical student when we met and I wanted to go back to finish my studies after I had spent so many years training to be a doctor."

"Am I still around?" asked Sarah Jane tentatively.

Martha nodded. "Oh yes, and you'd met my Doctor at least twice that I know about by the time that I began this search."

"Are we friends then?"

"Yes we are," Martha said fervently. "The second time that you met my Doctor is when you and I met for the first time in my timeline, and we became friends as a result. In fact, you helped me to come looking for the Doctor I know."

"Really?" Martha nodded. "Good." Martha noticed Sarah Jane sounded satisfied by this information.

The door opened again and the young journalist quickly slipped down off the Brigadier's desk as he came in, accompanied by the Doctor.

Martha immediately stood up, noticing that the Time Lord looked considerably more friendly than he had when she'd arrived.

"Dr Jones." He doffed his hat to her, then strode over and shook hands with her.

"Hello Doctor." She looked up at him a little warily.

"I've kept you waiting around, for which I should apologise, but if you're ready, I'll sort out your wrist computer and you needn't hang around any longer."

"Thank you."

"Miss Smith, perhaps you would come and have a word with Lieutenant Sullivan before he heads off to Think Tank?" asked the Brigadier.

Sarah Jane raised her eyebrows, then nodded. "Very well. It was nice meeting you Martha. I'm glad we'll be friends in the future."

She ignored the Doctor's harrumph at this remark, and gave the young woman a quick hug before she went out.

The Brigadier shook hands with Martha. "Good to see you again, Dr Jones. Take care of your shoulder and keep up the good work."

Martha saluted him and he touched the end of his swagger stick to the peak of his cap in acknowledgement before following Sarah Jane, leaving Martha alone with the Doctor.

"I'm sorry I nearly caused you to crash earlier," she offered.

"Not your fault," he answered gruffly as he pulled his sonic screwdriver from the pocket of his red coat.

She unstrapped Jack's wrist computer, wondering if he was going to be the only incarnation who wasn't going to take to her, and she wondered also if the Doctor was always so grumpy after regenerating.

"It's not your fault," he told her as she handed over Jack's device.

"What isn't?" she asked, confused.

"That I remembered you. Although – " He broke off and she gave him an expectant look.

"My second and third incarnations were a bit sentimental about their companions. Neither one wanted to forget what you were doing: the third because you were such good company to him after Jo decided to stay with Professor Jones, and the second because you'd been shot, and you were kind to Zoe."

He looked up suddenly from fiddling with the controls and pinned Martha with a piercing look. "What you're doing on behalf of my later self goes far beyond anything I've experienced with any of my companions so far: to risk all the dangers of travelling through the Time Vortex with only this thing to protect you requires incredible courage and demonstrates great loyalty to me, but it is also the most foolhardy enterprise you or anyone could ever engage in."

Martha folder her arms across her chest, giving him a rather cross look, and he grinned suddenly, startling her.

"You're a formidable young woman, Dr Jones. I hope I deserve your loyalty and courage, because I'd hate to think you were wasting it on some worthless fellow who didn't appreciate you."

"That's for me to know and you to find out," she answered.

He laughed suddenly, a rich, booming laugh that made Martha smile in spite of herself.

"Good answer."

He finished fiddling and held out the wrist computer, waiting while she strapped it in place again.

"I hope I will properly express my gratitude to you when you find me," he told her. "I'm only sorry I have to make everyone forget meeting you, but I can't risk their knowledge of future events damaging the timelines."

He gave her a solemn look, and she suddenly sensed what a huge responsibility it was being a Time Lord, even if you weren't the last of your kind.

"It doesn't do for anyone to know too much about their future, even me."

"I understand," Martha assured him, "maybe not as well as you do, given my limited human brain, but I understand why you have to do it, and why, when I met your future incarnation for the first time, you had no recollection of the previous occasions when we'd met before."

He stood up, and Martha did too, offering a hand for him to shake, but he shook his head and pulled her into a hug.

"Thank you for being so patient with this grumpy Time Lord," he said, "and thank you for being such a good friend to me Martha Jones."

"You're welcome," she assured him, meaning it.

"Right, you must be on your way, and I must go and see a man about a seven foot robot."

Martha laughed softly, then adjusted the settings on the wrist computer. Her last sight of this Doctor was him waving his hat to her before she was whirled away.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: A Shift in Perspective

Author: Persiflage_1

Characters/Pairings: Martha, Sixth Doctor, Evelyn Smythe, Tenth Doctor, Torchwood Team

Rating: PG (Rated for violence)

Spoilers: BFA: Medicinal Purposes, Storm Warning

Summary: The Tenth Doctor goes missing and it's up to Martha Jones to track him down again, but it proves both harder and more instructive than she expects.

Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!

Author Notes: This is the seventh chapter in a ten chapter story that's set a couple of months after S4. The initial dialogue between Six and Evelyn is taken from Robert Ross' Big Finish audio 'Medicinal Purposes'.

Many thanks to my Beta readers for this chapter: lj user=laura_luvage, lj user=ladymako71, lj user=neadods and most especially lj user=shadowturquoise, who has done sterling work in making sure this didn't utterly suck!

* * * * * *

**Cardiff**

Jack smiled up at Ianto as the latter placed a fresh mug of coffee on his desk.

"You could go and get some sleep now," suggested the young Welshman. "Gwen and I can keep an eye on the TARDIS and the Rift Monitors."

"I – " Jack stopped, frowning, and Ianto gave him a questioning look as the older man began patting his pockets. His confusion cleared when Jack pulled out his mobile phone.

"It's a text message – from Martha!" he exclaimed.

Ianto immediately opened the office door and shouted for Gwen to come quickly. Jack waited until she'd joined them and then read out the text.

"Jack, everyone. Just wanted you to know I'm OK. No sign of our Doctor yet. Have met six of him so far. Back soon I hope. Love Martha."

"What does that mean, 'met six of him'?" asked Gwen in puzzlement.

"The Doctor can regenerate. When he's been really badly injured, fatally, I mean, his body undergoes a complete cellular rejuvenation. His body and personality changes, but he retains the memories of his earlier selves. The tall skinny one we know is the Doctor's tenth incarnation."

"So, what – Martha's met six incarnations so far, but not the tenth?" asked Ianto.

"Yep." Jack got to his feet. "Let's call Sarah Jane on the subwave and let her know that we've heard from Martha."

* * * * * *

**19th century Edinburgh**

"I never quite understand," said Evelyn. "If the scanner sets your suspicious radar off, why, oh why do we always get out of the TARDIS and look anyway?"

"Initial fears, by their very nature, are never meant to last long," the Doctor told her. "At least the darkness is satisfactorily explained. Some sort of tunnel obviously."

"Hello!" called Evelyn, her voice echoing back at them.

"Do you **have** to?" asked the Doctor, exasperated.

"When in a cliff-hanging situation, always go for the cliché, that's my motto," answered his companion cheerfully.

"But I still don't like this. There's a lingering sensation of trepidation."

"Oh yes," retorted Evelyn. "Let's look on the bright side, Doctor. You were certainly right about something. It **is** dark. Conclusion being the TARDIS is not faulty, the machinery is perfectly normal, and the scanner is fully operational. It displayed exactly what it saw: absolute darkness."

"Look like some sort of ancient maze of catacombs," mused the Doctor. "The dawn of civilisation probably."

"Or just a railway tunnel," offered Evelyn.

"You are in a witty mood, aren't you? Catacombs or not, where there's a light, there's a way."

"Where?"

"Follow me," he answered.

They walked forward towards the spot where the Doctor had seen a brief burst of light.

"Hello, what's this?"

"Your eyesight must be better than mine, if you can see anything in this darkness," Evelyn commented.

"Look," he said, and she could just make out his hand pointing; looking down she saw a handful of lights dimly glinting on the floor of the tunnel. They both crouched down for a closer look.

"Good heavens! It's a person!"

The Doctor was frantically patting down the pockets of his brightly coloured coat. "Torch, everlasting matches," he muttered. "I must have something in here. Aha!" He gave a cry of triumph as he pulled out a pocket torch and switched it on to reveal a young, dark-skinned woman dressed all in black.

"Is she – is she dead, Doctor?"

He handed her the torch. "Hold that steady for me, will you, and I'll check."

She took the torch and trained it on the wall just above the girl's head, watching as he slipped two fingers inside the collar of her coat, looking for a pulse.

"She's still alive," he said, and heard Evelyn's sigh of relief. "But she's in pretty bad shape. I think we'd better get her back to the TARDIS."

"Is that wise? To move her, I mean?"

"Well we can't leave her here, and we've no idea where we can find medical help locally," he answered.

Evelyn straightened up and watched as he lifted up the young woman.

"What do you supposed happened to her?" asked Evelyn as they set off back down the tunnel towards the TARDIS.

"I'm not sure," he answered, sounding preoccupied, "but I'm very interested in having a closer look at that wrist device she's wearing."

"Why, what is it?"

"I don't know exactly, but it's very advanced technology."

They let themselves into the ship, Evelyn quickly switching off the torch as they entered the well-lit Control Room. Now they had sufficient light by which to see, she was horrified to notice several large holes in the young woman's clothing. She hurried after the Doctor as he strode off towards the Medical Bay.

"Can I do anything to help?" she asked anxiously as the Time Lord gently lowered his burden onto one of the beds.

"We need to get her clothes off," he said. "I don't like the look of those wounds." He looked up at Evelyn and she saw that his normally cheerful expression had been replaced by one of considerable anxiety.

"Very well."

The Doctor unstrapped the wrist device and set it aside, then they manoeuvred the young woman out of her coat, which Evelyn noticed seemed to have an inordinate number of pockets. Underneath the coat was a red vest top with a large hole across the front that surrounded a nasty wound between her breast and her naval. There was also, rather puzzlingly, a neat surgical dressing on her left shoulder.

"Curiouser and curiouser," muttered the Doctor as he took off the girl's boots and Evelyn eased off her torn trousers, revealing another nasty wound on her right leg.

"What on Earth could have caused these wounds?" Evelyn asked, noticing the unhealthy discolouring of the skin around them.

"Nothing on Earth," he answered grimly. "These, my dear Evelyn, were caused by a Vortisaur."

"What's a Vortisaur when it's at home?" she wondered, worried by his expression.

"It's a species of time-sensitive flying reptile that inhabits the Space-Time Vortex. They look like pterosaurs and are drawn to the chronal distortions radiated by objects as they traverse the Vortex." He had taken off his coat and was rolling up his shirt sleeves as he spoke. Evelyn almost missed his next words as he washed his hands in the corner sink. "They have very sharp teeth, they're carrion feeders, and when they bite someone the chronal energy of the Vortisaur ages the wound and the surrounding tissue by several decades.

"Good heavens!" She gazed down at the young woman in dismay. "Is she going to die?"

"Not just yet, not if I've got anything to do with it." He rolled an instrument trolley across to the beside then pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

"This isn't going to be very pleasant," he said, looking at Evelyn. "So don't feel you have to stay."

"What are you going to do?"

"Excise the aged tissue, treat the wounds, and then use a tissue regenerator on the wounds. I hope that will be sufficient to help her to heal and recover."

He gave her an expectant look. "Can I do anything to help?" she asked.

"Not really, not this time," he told her gently.

"Then I won't stay. No sense in me getting in your way."

He nodded, giving her an understanding smile, and she left him to it.

* * * * * *

It was over an hour later that Evelyn saw the Doctor again; he came into the kitchen where she was sitting listening to music and knitting, and she saw he looked weary.

"How is she?" asked the older woman, getting up to make them a pot of tea.

"She'll live. She's sleeping at the moment, probably will be for a few hours as I had to give her painkillers as well as an anaesthetic."

He sat down heavily and placed the young woman's wrist device on the table in front of him.

"What is that?" asked Evelyn as she poured hot water into the teapot to warm it.

"It appears to be a very advanced wrist computer with a built-in Vortex Manipulator." He noticed his companion's puzzled expression and elaborated. "A Vortex Manipulator allows the user to travel through Time and Space without needing a vessel, such as a TARDIS, to move around. The user is cocooned in a protective bubble."

"So how did our mystery woman end up here badly injured by this Vortisaur?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I don't know, not without asking her."

He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and began fiddling with the controls. There was a sudden flare of bright light and then Evelyn gasped as a holographic projection of the young woman appeared a few feet away.

"My name is Dr Martha Jones and I work for the Earth organisation UNIT. If you can see this message it probably means I'm dead and I've failed in my quest to recover the individual known as the Doctor. If so, please return this device to Captain Jack Harkness, care of the Tourist Information Office in Cardiff." There was a pause, then she spoke again.

"Jack, please don't blame yourself for my death. I chose to do this alone and I knew it was going to be risky. Please give my love to Sarah Jane and Luke, and to Gwen and Ianto, and keep some for yourself of course. If you ever see the Doctor again, if he comes back in spite of my failure to rescue him, then please give him all my love and tell him that it was an absolute privilege to know and travel with him. I'll always consider myself fortunate to have counted him as a friend. Tell him that he's not to blame himself or you for what's happened to me – it was my choice."

She took a deep breath, then continued. "Jack, please tell my family that I love them dearly and I'm very sorry that I disappeared without saying goodbye. I hope they won't blame you for what's happened to me. This is your nightingale, singing her last song."

The image vanished and the Doctor and Evelyn sat looking at each, both of them very surprised by what they had just heard.

* * * * * *

Martha was dreaming: she was being chased through the Vortex by Sontarans mounted on flying reptile creatures that looked a lot like Jack's Myfanwy. Then Davros and a horde of Daleks joined in the chase, screaming Exterminate in English and German in their harsh, metallic voices. Then the Master was there, with Tom, both of them riding on the flying reptile creatures, and they were flying at each other likes knights on horseback jousting. But while Tom was armed with a short spear, the Master had his laser screwdriver, and Martha screamed in horror as the Master fired repeatedly at Tom, blasting holes in his legs and torso before shooting him in the head. Martha threw herself at the Master, intending to throttle him, but he blasted her too before she could reach him.

Then the dream changed and Martha found herself mounted on one of the flying creatures with the Master flying at her, shooting her as he'd been shooting Tom, and Tom watched them, laughing at her until tears ran down his cheeks, then she tumbled off the creature to fall endlessly into the swirling light and energy of the Space-Time Vortex.

* * * * * *

Just after the holographic projection switched off, the Doctor and Evelyn were startled to hear a scream from the Medical Bay, and they hurried through the corridors to find the young woman, Martha Jones, thrashing about on the bed, yelling and crying in anguish.

"Hold her down," the Doctor said quickly as he took Martha's head in his hands. Evelyn held her shoulders, watching as the Time Lord put his hands to her temples.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Making telepathic contact," he answered, his eyes closed and an expression of great concentration on his face.

Martha's wild movements began to calm down until she was completely still, and Evelyn let go of her shoulders to take the young woman's right hand in both of her own. The Doctor, she suddenly realised, was humming softly, his hands still at Martha's temples, and as she watched a peaceful expression settled on the young woman's face.

Satisfied, the Doctor lifted his hands away, then he moved away from the bedside, beckoning Evelyn to follow him.

"What was that you were humming?" she asked once they were out in the corridor and heading back to the kitchen.

"A Venusian lullaby."

"What did you see in her mind."

"Nightmares: she was dreaming of the Vortisaurs, which is hardly surprising in the circumstances." He rubbed a hand across his face. "Hopefully she'll sleep peacefully now until the drugs that I gave her have worn off."

* * * * * *

**On Skra**

The Doctor woke with a hoarse cry from a nightmare about being attacked by a herd of Vortisaurs. He lay still, wondering what had induced that particular nightmare: he remembered, all too clearly, the Vortisaurs that had attacked his TARDIS back in his eighth incarnation, and the young one he'd briefly tried to tame, which Charley had named Ramsay. But somehow he didn't think those memories were the cause of this nightmare.

Then, abruptly, a set of memories unlocked themselves and he quickly sat up, wincing at the pain caused by his sudden movement.

"Martha," he breathed. He'd remembered, now, that he and Evelyn had arrived in Edinburgh in the early 19th century, back when he'd been in his sixth incarnation, and they'd found Martha, unconscious and badly injured, in the catacombs under the city. She'd been attacked by a Vortisaur while travelling from her encounter with his fourth incarnation, and he'd been forced to perform emergency surgery on her.

"Oh Martha, you didn't deserve that." He remembered, too, the brief glimpse of Martha's nightmares that his sixth incarnation had been given, and realised with a guilty start that he had never actually talked to her about her experiences walking the Earth, and he wondered if it was too late now.

* * * * * *

**Aboard the TARDIS**

The Doctor and Evelyn had discussed what to do while Martha was recovering: she wondered if they should try to find out where they were and why the TARDIS had brought them here, but he was at least half convinced that Martha was the reason for their presence here.

"And if she's not?" asked Evelyn. "What if there's something else here – wherever here is – that needs your attention?"

"My dear Evelyn, I'm sure it can wait. I need to know what's happened to cause this young woman to risk life and limb searching for me."

"It does seem rather foolhardy."

He gave her a surprised look. "You don't think it's courageous, to be searching the whole of Time and Space for someone you care about?"

"Well yes, I do, but it also seems a bit rash."

He shrugged. "Maybe, but we don't know all the circumstances surrounding this young woman's search – perhaps she had no choice about searching for me because I am needed to prevent an alien incursion or something."

They remained in the kitchen, listening to the radio, drinking tea and, in Evelyn's case, knitting, while they waited for Martha to wake up again.

Eventually the Doctor's fidgeting led his companion to suggest that he make himself useful by winding wool for her, and he was in the midst of this task when his head suddenly shot up.

"She's waking up," he said.

"How can you tell?" asked Evelyn, her head tilted to one side as she strained to hear anything aside from the usual sounds of the TARDIS.

"The TARDIS let me know," he answered, getting to his feet and dumping the wool on the table.

"Doctor!" protested Evelyn, exasperated that she'd have to start all over again.

"Never mind that now," he said impatiently. "Come on." He hurried out and she followed slightly more slowly.

When they reached the Medical Bay they found Martha's eyes were still closed, which led Evelyn to wonder why the Doctor had been in such a rush in the first place. But even as she wondered this, Martha opened her eyes, blinking up at the ceiling before slowly turning her head towards them.

"Hello Dr Jones. I'm the Doctor and this is my friend Evelyn. How are you feeling?"

Martha stared at the two figures: noticing that the Doctor had curly blond hair and a round face above a brightly coloured coat that instantly made her think of Joseph in the Bible; Evelyn, she noticed, was an older woman with grey hair, glasses and a sensible cardigan.

"A bit rough," Martha answered croakily, her throat feeling very dry.

Evelyn immediately fetched her a plastic cup of water and the Doctor slid an arm under her shoulders, lifting her up so she could drink.

"Thank you." Although still raspy, she didn't sound quite so croaky after she'd drunk some of the water.

"I'm in the TARDIS," she said, puzzled that she had no recollection of entering the ship and wondering why she was in the Med Bay.

"Yes you are. What can you remember?"

She frowned, struggling to separate her memories from her nightmares. "Flying reptiles," she said finally. "There was a pack of them chasing me and – Oh!"

She gasped and looked down at herself, taking in the standard issue white hospital gown that she was wearing. "I was attacked."

The Doctor nodded. "The flying reptiles are called Vortisaurs and they live in the Space-Time Vortex. At least one of them caught you and injured you."

"How badly?" she asked immediately.

"I had to perform emergency surgery," he told her, then explained the nature of the wounds given by the Vortisaur.

Martha bit her lip, forcing herself not to cry: she'd come close to death so many times during her travels with the Doctor, but the thought that she might have been killed in the Vortex itself was particularly frightening – no one would have known where she was. When she'd decided to record her farewell message on Jack's wrist computer back in the Brigadier's office, she had done so on the assumption that if she did die while searching for the Doctor, her body would be recovered.

The Doctor squeezed her arm. "It's all right," he assured her. "The injuries will heal, and you shouldn't even be too badly scarred thanks to the TARDIS' equipment."

She gave a shaky laugh. "Scars are the least of my worries right now."

"Would you like a cup of tea?" asked Evelyn, then she turned to the Doctor. "Will Martha be able to drink it?"

The Time Lord nodded. "Do you want some tea?" he asked.

"Yes please."

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Evelyn said. "Don't start your tale without me."

The Doctor lowered Martha back down onto her pillows. "This bed can support you," he said, moving away and then bending down to look at the side of it. "If I can remember how to adjust it."

Martha gestured to the top end of the bed. "Unless the beds in here have changed, the controls should be up here."

The Doctor investigated and found the necessary buttons, pressing one and smiling in a pleased manner when the head of the bed raised up.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked once it had stopped moving.

"As comfortable as I'll ever be while I'm stuck in a hospital bed," she answered. "This is the second time I've ended up in one on this trip, which is slightly worrying."

"I saw the dressing on your shoulder. What happened?"

Before she could answer, Evelyn came in carrying a tray on which Martha could see a teapot. The Doctor quickly took it from his companion and carefully set it down on the nearby instrument trolley.

Martha gratefully accepted the cup of tea she was offered, noticing that there was also half a large chocolate cake on the tray.

"Would you like some of Evelyn's splendid chocolate cake?" asked the Doctor when he spotted the direction of Martha's gaze.

"Yes please, it looks delicious."

Evelyn looked pleased at their comments. "Thank you – yes it is."

The Doctor cut them all a generous slice of cake and they ate in silence before the Time Lord's curiosity got the better of him.

"You mentioned this is the second time you've ended up injured. What happened the first time?"

"I shall have to start at the beginning," Martha answered. "But first I want to ask you something. How did you know who I was? Did one of your earlier incarnations forget to wipe his memories again?"

He blinked in surprise, then shook his head. "I was looking at your wrist computer earlier, and we saw the recording you made."

She blinked. "Oh yes, of course," she said. She took a deep breath before beginning her tale.

"The version of you whom I know, the tenth incarnation I think, was kidnapped from Cardiff." She paused to drink the rest of her tea, then recounted her various meetings with his different incarnations and companions. When she'd finished, Martha accepted another cup of tea and drank it thirstily.

"This is an incredible story," the Doctor observed at last, "and it's still not over. If, as you believe, the version of me whom you know is the tenth, then you have another two incarnations to meet, assuming you don't meet your incarnation next."

"And which one are you?" asked Evelyn, just beating Martha to the question.

"This is my sixth body," he told them.

"Do they all dress as showily as this one?" Evelyn asked Martha in a stage whisper; the young woman couldn't help laughing at the Doctor's expression.

"Do you mind, ladies?"

Martha shook her head. "The one I know wears a suit, shirt and tie with baseball boots, the third went in for velvet jackets and incredibly frilly shirts, and the fifth seemed to prefer a cricketing outfit."

"Well of course, not every incarnation of me is blessed with my sartorial taste."

The Doctor preened as he made this observation, and the two women were forced to bite their lips and look away from each other or they would both have burst out laughing.

"Now really, ladies," he protested when he spotted their shaking shoulders.

"I'm sorry Doctor. You're a splendid fellow, but that coat is a bit shocking," Evelyn answered.

"Nonsense," he retorted.

Martha thought it best to intervene and change the subject before he became genuinely upset.

"How soon can I get up?"

"How are you feeling?" he asked immediately.

"Not bad, considering." She smiled. "I think Evelyn's chocolate cake helped."

The older woman looked delighted at Martha's comment.

"Then I believe you may get up, but you had better not go rushing off just yet." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I think some gentle exercise, a few hours natural sleep, and a meal are called for."

Martha nodded. "In that order?"

"Depends how hungry you are. You might want to eat a proper meal before you sleep."

"Why don't I take Martha for a walk in one of the TARDIS gardens?" suggested Evelyn.

"Splendid idea." He got up. "We'll leave you to get dressed," he said, "and then Evelyn can keep you company."

"Thank you."

The Doctor picked up Martha's clothes, now cleaned and repaired by the TARDIS, from the other bed, and put them on the foot of her bed, before picking up the tray of tea things.

"Can you manage?" asked Evelyn.

"I think so."

"I'll wait in the corridor, then. Call me if you need a hand."

Martha nodded and they went out. She sat up, then eased herself out of the bed. Her legs felt a bit wobbly once she put her weight on them, but she was relieved to discover that she didn't feel faint or dizzy. She was a bit shocked when she saw the size of the dressings on the top of her right leg and an inch or so below her breasts, and she hoped that the Doctor had been generous in covering her wounds, otherwise the damage was worse than she'd guessed.

It took her about five minutes to get dressed, then she joined Evelyn in the corridor, accepting the older woman's arm when she offered it.

"I'm not as young as I once was," she confided to Martha, "and I don't think you are up to dashing about just yet."

"Definitely not," agreed the young doctor, allowing Evelyn to set their pace.

"So, you've heard my story, what's yours?"

Evelyn smiled fondly as she began to explain how the Doctor had interrupted one of her history lectures while searching for a temporal nexus point, and how they had found themselves in the 16th century soon afterwards.

Martha plied her with just enough questions to show her interest in Evelyn's account of her journeys backwards and forwards in Time, but allowed her to tell the tale at her own pace. She tried not to feel jealous when she learned that the older woman had actually visited Gallifrey, and listened avidly to Evelyn's account of meeting Romana and various other Time Lords.

By the time Evelyn had finished her narrative, Martha was feeling weary again, so they made their way back to the kitchen from the Arboretum where they'd been walking and talking, and the Doctor suggested that she take a nap before sharing a meal with them.

"Sleep sounds like a nice idea," she agreed, "even though it's not that long since I woke up."

The Doctor offered her his arm and led her to a room nearby. "This one's not being used," he assured her. "Sleep as long as you need."

"Thank you." She found a pair of pyjamas under the duvet and changed into them gratefully after he'd left her, then settled down to sleep.

Martha slept for four hours, then found her way back to the kitchen where the Doctor and Evelyn were preparing a meal. She sat and watched them, thinking they reminded her of her parents when she'd been younger, long before Annalise had come on the scene: Clive and Francine Jones had often cooked together.

None of them talked much while they ate, and both the Doctor and Evelyn refused Martha's offer of helping with the washing up.

"How are you feeling?" asked the Doctor. "You can stay here a while longer if you like – we'd both enjoy your company." Evelyn nodded her agreement.

"I'm feeling a lot better, thank you. And much as I'd enjoy your company, I think I want to move on since I know I'm that much closer to finding my Doctor."

"Are you sure? You don't look very lively to me," Evelyn commented.

"I'm sure. I need to keep going. I don't know what's happening to my Doctor, but I fear it's nothing pleasant. I can't let him down now, not after all that's happened."

"But it wouldn't hurt for you to stay a bit longer, surely?" asked the Doctor. "I don't like the idea of sending you off again quite so soon after we found you so badly injured. You won't be much use to me if you're still weak from your injuries."

Martha looked slightly exasperated and she squared her shoulders firmly. "I appreciate your concern Doctor, but I'm a qualified doctor and I think I know better than anyone what I am capable of, and how fit I am." She wondered at the irony of every incarnation of the Doctor showing more concern for her health and well-being than the one with whom she'd travelled had ever done.

He clearly wanted to argue with her, but instead he nodded. "Very well." He picked up the wrist computer and passed it over. "I've adjusted the controls for you, so you won't run into me again."

"Thank you. Thank you both for everything, I appreciate you looking after me."

"My dear Martha, it was the least we could do," answered the Doctor. They headed through the TARDIS to the Control Room, where Martha shook hands with them both, then they watched as she stepped outside and set the controls on Jack's device to take her onwards.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: A Shift in Perspective

Author: Persiflage_1

Characters/Pairings: Martha, Seventh Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Black Guardian, Others

Rating: PG (Rated for violence)

Spoilers: Remembrance of the Daleks, Iceworld

Summary: The Tenth Doctor goes missing and it's up to Martha Jones to track him down again, but it proves both harder and more instructive than she expects.

Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!

Author Notes: This is the eighth chapter in a ten chapter story that's set a couple of months after S4.

* * * * * *

**On Skra**

The Doctor was exhausted and in almost constant pain. By now he'd lost track of time, ironically, and had no idea whether it had been days or weeks since Slavin had begun torturing him. He was getting very little sleep, and when he did, it was filled with nightmares of the deaths of his companions at the hands of Daleks, Cybermen, Yeti, Sea Devils, Silurians – all the creatures that he'd encountered over the centuries that he'd been roaming the universe. Threaded through all his dreams was the Black Guardian, laughing and gloating at his misery and pain.

He'd even begun to wonder whether Martha would find him: he'd had no new memories of her since he'd recalled her meeting with his sixth incarnation and Evelyn, and he worried that the injuries which she had sustained from her encounter with the Vortisaurs had been too bad, and that she had been forced to return to Cardiff and give up her search. Not that he would have blamed her if she had abandoned her self-imposed task: she had already endured so much for him, he could not expect her to continue risking her life for his, and he knew he didn't deserve that level of devotion or loyalty from any of his companions.

The door to his cell banged open and he found he could barely muster the strength to lift his head to look at Slavin. When he did, he swallowed painfully as he noticed that the Black Guardian was there in his cell too; he hadn't bothered appearing to taunt the Doctor since his first arrival on Skra, and the Doctor had assumed that he had no further interest in him, which had clearly been a mistaken assumption.

"It seems, Time Lord, that I underestimated the persistence of those short-lived mortals that you are so fond of dragging about the universe," he sneered.

The Doctor looked at him impassively, but felt hope flaring inside himself.

The Black Guardian scowled at his lack of a response. "One of those human pets of yours is causing a disturbance by searching for you with the aid of a crude piece of technology, no doubt stolen from its owner."

The Doctor forced himself to smile, despite the pain it caused him. "I bet you're not feeling quite so confident of me never being found now, are you?"

"SILENCE!" roared the Black Guardian. "I've a mind to have Slavin cut out your tongue, I'm sure he'd enjoy that."

The Doctor glanced at Slavin and saw him licking his lips in anticipation, and repressed a shudder.

"Still, even if your mortal pet does find you, neither one of you will escape. Slavin will see to that."

"You're not sending Slavin after Martha?" the Doctor asked, horrified at the idea.

The Black Guardian sneered. "Are you hoping for some respite? I will not waste my time or Slavin's on your pet. She cannot help you."

He disappeared and Slavin moved forward to haul the Time Lord to his feet, and the Doctor wondered whether this would be the torture session that forced him to regenerate.

* * * * * *

**London 1963**

Martha landed from her next jump, staggered and then threw up, just missing a pair of brown and white shoes. She heard an exclamation of dismay and found a hand on her arm, assisting her upright until she was facing a small, dapperly dressed man, who raised his hat to her with his free hand.

"Sorry," she croaked, feeling distinctly nauseous still.

"Are you all right?" the man asked, sounding concerned.

She noticed the soft burr in his voice and the way he rolled his Rs, and felt mild surprise that he sounded Scottish.

"I've been better," she answered. "Are you the Doctor?"

His friendly expression immediately turned wary as he looked her up and down. "Who wants to know," he asked, "and just how did you manage to appear like that?"

She felt his grip tighten on her arm and tried to smile reassuringly. "Dr Martha Jones, UNIT MO and sometime companion to the Doctor in the early 21st century."

An expression of surprise fleetingly crossed his face before he composed himself. "Come inside and have a drink to wash the nasty taste out of your mouth, and then you had better explain what you're doing in the middle of the 20th century."

He helped her into the café he had just left, and got her a glass of water and a mug of tea while she sank gratefully into a chair.

She nodded her thanks to the Doctor as he set down the drinks.

"Thank you." She took a couple of mouthfuls of the cold water, then wrapped both hands around the hot mug, taking a moment to gather her wits. This latest jump had left her feeling more disorientated than the previous few and she wondered if she'd been too quick to make the jump after her emergency surgery.

"I've been travelling through Time and Space, searching for the incarnation of you with whom I previously travelled."

The Doctor's eyebrows shot up and he rested his chin on his hands which, Martha now noticed, were folded on the red question mark shaped handle of his umbrella.

"Why and how are you travelling through Time and Space looking for me?" he asked.

She swallowed a mouthful of the hot sweet tea, then repeated her tale for the eighth time. The Doctor listened attentively, his sharp grey eyes fixed on her face throughout her narrative.

"A most interesting tale," he commented when she had finished. "It is particularly interesting that you should find me here and now, when I have been in this place at this time before."

Martha felt her own eyebrows rising in surprise at this remark; his tone was thoughtful, meditative almost, and he seemed to be looking right through her and into the past.

"Right, then!" He suddenly snapped out of his reverie, seeming almost to fizz with energy and Martha was reminded of her Doctor when he was in one of his manic moods. "I think we should go to the TARDIS now and I will sort out that device for you."

"Thank you." Martha accepted his arm and nodded her thanks to the man behind the counter who had retreated through a door after supplying her tea and water, but now returned with a bunch of keys in his hand, and bid them goodnight before locking up behind them.

"Are you travelling on your own at the moment?" she asked the Doctor as he led her the short distance to where the TARDIS patiently waited in a side street.

"No, I've got a rather boisterous young companion named Ace, but she's staying elsewhere tonight." He unlocked the door and ushered Martha inside.

She was surprised by the Doctor's answer, but the TARDIS' hum of greeting distracted her from making any further enquiries.

The Time Lord's expression grew thoughtful as he recognised the warmth in his ship's reaction to their visitor: it was clear to him that Martha was well-known to the TARDIS, and that his ship regarded her as a friend. He immediately resolved to find out more about this young woman's travels with his future incarnation.

"I think you and I should talk further, before you continue your search," he told Martha, "but perhaps you would like some food and rest first?"

She smiled. "I seem to spend nearly half of my time with each of your incarnations in eating and sleeping."

"I'm really not surprised," he told her. "Leaping through Time and Space as you are doing is exhausting. Time Agents would not normally make so many jumps in such a short space of time."

He took her arm again and they made their way to the kitchen where the Doctor directed her to a seat, which she accepted gratefully.

Martha watched as he hung his umbrella, hat and jacket on a hook by the door. "I'm generally accounted a decent cook," he told her as he pushed the sleeves of his shirt and jacket up, then washed his hands.

"We'll have a nice healthy stew, I think, thick with vegetables and meat." He quirked an eyebrow at her as he dried his hands, then donned a blue and white striped apron, and she grinned at him.

"Yes please."

"Better for you, nutritionally, than Evelyn's chocolate cake, no matter how delicious that is."

"How is Evelyn?" asked Martha.

The Doctor paused in the act of getting out various vegetables and she wondered if she should have refrained from asking, but he had been the one to mention the older woman first.

"She is well, she settled on Világ with a good man," he answered. "I believe she is happy there."

There was a slight catch in his voice and she wondered what had happened between him and Evelyn; it was the sort of catch she had heard in her Doctor's voice when they had talked of Donna back in Cardiff. She decided not to ask him for any further information, changing the subject instead.

"May I ask which incarnation you are?"

He half turned to look at her over his shoulder as he chopped some carrots. "This is my seventh incarnation."

Which meant that she only had the first incarnation left to meet if she didn't find her own Doctor on her next jump – and by this stage in her quest she was resigned to the fact that she would probably find her Doctor last of all his incarnations.

_It's Sod's Law_, she thought ruefully. Not that it hadn't been interesting meeting all his earlier incarnations and their various companions. In fact, she'd go so far as to say it had been a fascinating experience, but she would definitely have preferred to meet them while travelling in the TARDIS: she felt she could easily have lived without the experience of being shot by UNIT or attacked by Vortisaurs, and she would definitely have done without the frequent nausea and disorientation.

As the Doctor chopped vegetables and prepared chunks of meat for the stew, he plied Martha with questions about her travels with his later self.

"I observed," he said after she had told him of Judoon on the Moon, Shakespeare and New, New York, "that the TARDIS is very familiar with you, which is a very curious thing."

He gave her a thoughtful look as he prepared the stock for the stew.

Martha nodded. "I was surprised that she recognised me when I encountered her during your fifth incarnation. I know that she is sentient as my Doctor explained about that one day, but I didn't know she was capable of recognising someone she hadn't yet met from a strictly chronological point of view." She frowned in thought. "Although I suppose that the non-linearity of Time, the fact that it's more like a ball of string than a straight line, means that I shouldn't be that surprised that she recognised me."

He looked pleased. "You understand about Time being non-linear!"

Martha waggled her hand from side to side. "In a limited way," she answered. "You'll explain it to me one day in 1969."

He paused as he was about to put the pot of stew in the oven, giving her a startled look. "I can see we're going to have an interesting time, you and I," he observed with a wry expression.

_You don't know the half of it_, Martha thought.

"Now then, that will take a while to cook. Do you want to sleep until it's ready or talk?"

"I'd rather sleep afterwards, if you don't mind," she answered.

He shook his head, pulling off his apron. "Let's go and find somewhere more comfortable to sit, shall we?"

She followed him through several corridors until they reached a door which she noticed had a silver leaf above the handle. As they walked into the room, the lights brightened and Martha gasped in astonishment when she saw the room, which looked nothing like a room: above them hung two suns in a burnt orange sky, and in the distance was a city enclosed in a clear dome. Nearer at hand were silver-leaved trees, and looking down, she could have sworn they were walking on red grass.

"Gallifrey," she breathed, her eyes shining with delight.

The Doctor quietly muttered something and she looked around at him.

"Is this a holographic projection?" she asked.

"Not exactly," he answered. "You know the TARDIS interior is located in a separate dimension relatively to its exterior?"

"You mean we're actually on Gallifrey?" asked Martha immediately, her expression warring between hope and disbelief.

"Oh, you're a quick one, aren't you?" he said, his voice full of approval.

She knelt down carefully and hesitantly brushed her hand over the grass. "So those are real trees and that's the real Citadel?" she asked, her tone and expression full of wonder and amazement.

"Yes."

"Wow!" She turned to the Doctor, her eyes shining with delight. "Thank you for showing me your home," she said softly, stepping to his side and reaching out to squeeze his fingers in her own.

"Thank the TARDIS," he said, "it was her idea. This," he gestured around "is normally just a holographic projection, as you suggested. She was the one who decided to bring us here."

"Thank you," she said softly, feeling as if her heart would burst with emotion: she felt a mixture of joy, gratitude and poignancy being here, knowing that this would all be lost one day soon, relatively speaking.

She wondered if the Doctor knew what was to come; she felt sure that the Time War could not have come as a complete surprise to the Time Lords, any more than the World Wars of Earth had come as a surprise to her own people, at least not to the politicians, who must have seen the warning signs even if the ordinary people did not.

Martha followed the Doctor over to a stand of silver-leaved trees and they sat down on a bench she could have sworn wasn't there when they started walked towards the trees, but she knew better than to question the workings of the TARDIS.

"Tell me about your interactions with the TARDIS, please?" asked the Doctor once they were settled.

So she told him about 1913 and her regular visits to the ship while her Doctor hid from the Family in the guise of a human called John Smith, and the comfort it had brought her to be aboard the TARDIS when she was struggling to cope at Farringham School.

She felt the Doctor's hand squeezing her shoulder as she talked, but she didn't cry, and he didn't interrupt her.

"There's something else as well," she said hesitantly once she had finished her narrative.

"What else?" he asked quietly.

"You won't remember any of this after I leave?" she asked.

"Nothing," he assured her. "You have my word."

Having secured his promise, Martha told him all about their unexpected trip to the end of the universe, propelled by the TARDIS' instinctive reaction to Jack being a fixed point in Time (she saw him wince at that information), and what had followed with the Master turning the TARDIS into a Paradox Machine. Then how, after she had walked around the world in order to defeat the Master, she and Jack had helped the Doctor to complete repairs on the ship.

"Sometimes, when I was walking the world, I thought I could hear her mourning in my head, through the Archangel Network."

"Oh Martha." The Doctor's voice was soft but full of sorrow by the time she had finished her tale.

She looked at him, her eyes shining with tears, but again she did not cry. "It's okay," she told him.

He shook his head. "Did you tell my later self about hearing the TARDIS?" he asked.

Martha shook her head in turn. "He was so devastated by the Master's refusal to regenerate, and we were so busy trying to repair the ship, that I never mentioned it. It didn't really seem that important, and I already knew I wouldn't be continuing my travels with him because I needed to stay and help my family to deal with what they had been through during that rewound year."

"Why would my later self be so upset about the Master not regenerating, he and I were friends long ago, it's true, but we've been bitter enemies far longer?"

She stared at him without answering, hoping he would understand that there were still some things she couldn't tell him, just as she hadn't told certain things to his eighth and ninth incarnations.

After a moment he sighed heavily. "Well, all this explains why the TARDIS has brought us here – she clearly feels a strong bond with you since you were her only link to her usual life while I was human. And she wouldn't forget that you helped her to heal after she was turned into a Paradox Machine." His expression spoke volumes about his distaste for what the Master had done to his ship.

"I once told Evelyn that the TARDIS has been the only fixed point in my ever-changing world since my companions come and go, and while some leave a deeper imprint on my hearts than others, you all leave me eventually. Only the TARDIS is constant, but to know what she will become – " He broke off with a theatrical shudder. "It is not a pleasant thought by any means."

"Sorry," Martha said softly.

The Doctor clasped her shoulder again. "Don't be sorry. I asked for the information, after all." He got to his feet. "I think that stew should be nearly ready." He offered her his hand and pulled her up from the bench.

"You have a stout heart, Martha Jones," he said, "and I'm proud to have met you." He gently tapped the end of her nose, smiling at her, then offered her his arm.

She accepted and allowed him to lead her across the grass. As they walked she felt an odd sort of ripple pass through the air and somehow knew they were back on board the TARDIS herself, and that her surroundings were now nothing more than a cleverly crafted holographic projection.

They made their way back to the kitchen where Martha took a seat at the Doctor's urging, and then after a brief burst of activity from him, they settled down to eat.

After a few minutes, Martha asked about Ace and he revealed they had only just met, out on Iceworld.

"She's a native of Earth, though. She got caught up in a Time Storm, which carried her to Iceworld and left her trapped there until I came along." He smiled indulgently. "She's a very feisty young woman, rather fond of explosives it seems, but I suspect she hides a warm heart under the bravado she displays. I think I shall have my hands full, travelling with young Miss McShane."

He looked wistful and Martha couldn't help reaching out to pat his arm; he focused his gaze back on her and put down his fork to pat her hand in response.

"It will be like old times, having a youngster aboard the ship again," he told her, smiling.

"Aren't we all youngsters to you, though?" she asked.

"Would you think me terribly rude if I said yes?" he asked lightly.

She laughed softly. "I'd think you were a terrible liar if you didn't," she told him.

Once they had finished eating the Doctor insisted on showing Martha to a room where she could sleep, telling her that he would wash up by himself as she had given him so much to think about, and even though she hadn't done much since leaving his sixth incarnation, Martha was tired enough to be glad of a rest again.

* * * * * *

**Cardiff**

Jack was sleeping restlessly in his quarters below his office when Gwen shouted his name, and he soon scrambled up the ladder, pulling his braces back up and then tugging on his shirt.

"What is it?" he asked anxiously. "Is she back?"

Gwen shook her head sadly. "No, but something's just come through the Rift close to the TARDIS. Whoever or whatever it was appeared in a huge burst of white light."

He hastily buttoned his shirt, holstered his Webley, and then pulled on his coat. "I'll go and take a look," he said.

"We'll come with you," Gwen said promptly.

Jack opened his mouth to disagree, then nodded, and they hurried over to the invisible lift where Ianto joined them.

"Did you sleep?" he asked Jack quietly.

"A little," he answered. "I was dreaming of Martha and the Doctor though, and not in a good way." He looked rueful and Ianto briefly put an arm around him; they were all wary and alert as they stepped off the paving stone and saw a figure dressed mostly in white standing close to the TARDIS.

"Who's that?" asked Gwen.

"No idea," answered Jack honestly. He led the way over to the ship and the waiting figure, and they all looked curiously at the man's white linen suit with its red buttonhole, and the light-coloured panama hat he wore.

"Who are you?" asked Jack directly, his hand hovering close to his gun.

The man lifted his hat briefly. "I am the White Guardian," he said. "I am known to the Doctor. I understand he has gone missing?"

Jack nodded, still wary. "I'm sorry, but who are you? 'The White Guardian' doesn't mean much to me."

"I represent order in the universe. I am the counterpart of the Black Guardian, who represents evil, chaos and entropy. We balance out the forces in the universe, although the Black Guardian always desires to upset the balance in favour of chaos and evil, while I prefer to maintain the status quo. I believe the Black Guardian is responsible for the disappearance of the Doctor."

"How can we find out if he was responsible?" asked Jack.

"You cannot. Only I can confirm this fact, but I understand that someone is searching for the Doctor?"

Jack heard Gwen make a noise of surprise behind him. "Yes, one of the Doctor's companions is looking for him now, although she has not succeeded yet."

"Even if she finds him, she may not be able to bring him away from whatever stronghold he is being held in – the Black Guardian makes use of others to do his dirty work for him since we cannot be seen to interfere. I will seek out the Doctor myself and do what I can to ensure the success of the mission. I cannot promise your friend will succeed, but I will do my best to help her via my own agents."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" asked Jack, who was itching to do something useful.

"I'm afraid not, not at this time. But you must be ready for the return of the Doctor and his companion – it is possible that the Black Guardian's agents will come after them." He looked gravely at them. "You may have to fight for their survival."

"We'll be ready," Jack said promptly, and heard murmurs of agreement from Gwen and Ianto.

"Good." The White Guardian inclined his head to them. "We may meet again, Jack Harkness." The Torchwood team members watched in surprise as the White Guardian gradually faded from their view.

"Well, that was different," muttered Ianto, as they turned and made their way back to the invisible lift.

"At least we know Martha's still alive and on the case," Gwen said, trying to sound cheerful.

Jack grunted. "I'm glad to know someone else is on the case. I can't say I really liked the idea of her going off alone, but she's as stubborn as the Doctor when the mood's on her."

"Do you think we can trust this White Guardian person?" asked Ianto.

Jack shrugged. "I don't think we've got much choice, do you? We've no idea where Martha or the Doctor are, and no real means of going after them ourselves. The fact that he came to us of his own free will seems hopeful. I'd rather go after her myself, but that's not an option."

Back down in the Hub, Ianto went to make them all some coffee, and Gwen offered to go and get pizza for a late lunch.

"Oh yeah, food's a good idea," Jack said, distractedly.

"She'll be okay, Jack. Have faith in Martha," Gwen told him.

"I do have faith in her," he replied. "But I can't help worrying about her. I'll be glad when she and the Doctor are back."

"We'll all be glad." She hugged him briefly, then went to let Ianto know she was going out for pizza.

* * * * * *

**On Skra**

Slavin had dumped the unconscious Doctor on the floor of his cell a couple of hours earlier; now he woke with a groan of agony, and cautiously lifted his hands to his face, feeling for further damage, but it seemed that Slavin had concentrated more on his torso than his head for this most recent session. He gingerly moved himself into a sitting position, leaning back against the stone wall behind him.

_Martha, if you're coming for me, please come soon. I don't think I can survive much more of this._

* * * * * *

**On the Seventh Doctor's TARDIS**

Martha woke abruptly from sleep to the knowledge that the TARDIS was in the Vortex. She sat up quickly and checked her watch, but what she saw didn't make sense. Frowning, she scrambled out of bed and had a quick wash in the ensuite bathroom, then dressed quickly and hurried through to the Control Room.

As soon as she walked through the door, the Doctor looked up from the console and smiled at her.

"Hello. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes thank you. We're in the Vortex?" she asked.

He grinned. "I thought that you would appreciate the opportunity to sleep your fill," he told her. "So I brought us into the Vortex. I'll get you back a couple of hours after we left, and then you can go on with your search."

"So I really have slept for eight hours?" she asked, glancing down at her watch on her wrist.

He nodded. "You seemed like you needed plenty of sleep." He gave her a sterner look. "I think you were too hasty in leaving my last incarnation after your encounter with the Vortisaurs."

She glanced down at her feet. "Probably."

He moved around the console and put one hand on her shoulder, using the other to lift her chin so he could look her in the eye.

"You won't be much help to me if you're not fit when you find my later incarnation," he said gently. "I know you're anxious for him, but you need to take care of yourself too." He tapped the end of her nose. "Understand?"

She nodded and he smiled at her. "Good. Now, let me adjust the Vortex Manipulator, and then I'll get you back to Earth and you can be on your way again."

"Thank you."

"It was an honour to help you, Martha Jones." He moved back to the console and set the controls, and they were soon back on Earth again.

He shook hands with Martha before he let her out of the TARDIS, then watched as she made her next jump.

"Good luck," he whispered as she disappeared.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: A Shift in Perspective

Author: Persiflage_1

Characters/Pairings: Martha, First Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Black Guardian, Others

Rating: PG (Rated for violence)

Spoilers: The War Machines

Summary: The Tenth Doctor goes missing and it's up to Martha Jones to track him down again, but it proves both harder and more instructive than she expects.

Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!

* * * * * *

Martha's next jump landed her in a street in daylight a short distance away from a very familiar blue box in front of which a white-haired older man, wearing a cloak and a hat, was pacing to and fro. He reminded her, vaguely, of Professor Dumbledore in the first Harry Potter film; his expression, however, was far from benign. In fact he looked grumpy and impatient, and she wondered if he was waiting for his companion or companions.

She moved towards him, thinking it was just as well she hadn't landed any closer or she might have given him a heart failure; she was surprised that he hadn't reacted to her abrupt appearance as most of the people she had met on her 'quest' had done.

Just as Martha was about to speak to the Doctor, he span around, startling her as she hadn't expected him to move so quickly.

"Just who are you, hmm?" he asked, his long-fingered hands clutching the lapels of the jacket he wore beneath his cloak. His expression was fierce and haughty, but she could see that for all his body looked old, his eyes betrayed his comparative youth to those of his later incarnations whom she had met.

"Well, child? You spring out of nowhere and come creeping up on me, did you think to mug an old man?"

"Hello Doctor." She held out a hand. "I'm Dr Martha Jones, a future companion of yours."

He looked her up and down, his posture stiff and his expression stern, and he made no move to shake hands with her.

"Can you prove that child?" he demanded, clearly unwillingly to simply accept that she was who she claimed to be.

Martha lowered her hand. "Well, I know that's not a real police box," she answered, gesturing behind him. "It's actually a TARDIS from Gallifrey, and it travels in Time and Space. TARDIS stands for Time and Relative Dimension In Space, and she's much bigger on the inside than the outside."

"Hmm, yes, well that much is true, and it's hard to see how you would know that if you hadn't met me. Of course, that does not preclude you being a spy."

She frowned. She hadn't anticipated that he wouldn't believe her once she had revealed that she knew about the TARDIS.

"Suppose you explain what you're doing here, and just how you managed to appear out of thin air, hmm?"

She shrugged. "The short version is that I'm searching for your tenth incarnation, he was kidnapped by someone 'for revenge'. I've been travelling through Time and Space using this." She lifted her sleeve and showed him Jack's wrist computer. "It belongs to another companion of yours who is from much further in the future than I am. The advanced technology it contains means that I can manipulate the Vortex to reach you at different points in your life, so I have now met all of your later incarnations."

She noticed a flare of interest in his eyes before he frowned. "This is an interesting tale," he conceded. "Perhaps you had better come into the ship and tell me more. But don't think of trying any tricks, if you are not who you say you are."

He turned and unlocked the door, ignoring the 'Out of Order' sign on it, then gestured for Martha to enter ahead of him.

She walked in, feeling a little more wary than she usually did when entering the TARDIS, but relaxed when she heard the ship hum in greeting. She crossed to the console and ran a finger along the edge, murmuring a greeting of her own in response.

When Martha looked up again she saw the Doctor had hung up his cloak and hat on the coat stand and she smiled; this was the first time that she had seen it used for its proper purpose.

"The Ship knows you," he observed, and she saw that he looked a lot less stern now.

She nodded. "She's looked after me a few times."

"You had better sit down and tell me this story of yours in full."

He moved across to sit in an ordinary upright chair nearby, and Martha sat down next to him. This version of the Control Room seemed the most stark and unhomely of the various versions she had seen, and she wondered idly if it was the influence of the humans who travelled in the TARDIS that caused the changes, or if it was down to the Doctor's or the ship's preferences.

"You may begin your story when you are ready," he told her, interrupting her musings.

Martha gave herself a mental shake, then began to explain about the Doctor's kidnapping in Cardiff, and how she had resolved to go after him with the aid of Jack's wrist computer.

"I would like a closer look at that device," the Doctor said.

She unstrapped it and handed it over, then watched as he pulled out a pair of glasses and put them on to examine the wrist computer more closely. She explained about her first encounter with his third incarnation, and then how she had met him a second time and he had realised the necessity of adjusting the settings so that she only met each incarnation once.

"Yes, yes, a simple matter of refining the DNA data so that the bio-signature algorithms are focused to ignore that specific engram when searching the Vortex. It's all quite simple, really, and rather elegant too." He grasped his lapels as he spoke. "It is good to know that I do not lose my touch when I am older."

He got up and moved over to the console, where he began fiddling with the controls before he hooked up the wrist computer, and Martha watched him work, amused by his almost childlike glee and satisfaction; she was reminded again that this was the Doctor at his youngest, for all that some of the later incarnations (the fifth in particular) inhabited young-looking bodies, they were all centuries older that this old-looking Time Lord. It was an odd thought, but she found herself warming to him as she was reminded of her brother Leo trying to look more grown-up when he was in his mid-teens.

The Doctor brought Jack's device back to her and sat back down again. "Now tell me about my later selves," he requested, looking rather friendlier than he had so far.

**On Skra**

The Doctor woke with a jolt from a dream about Martha almost throwing up on his seventh incarnation's shoes, to find Slavin dumping a tray of food inside the door of his cell. He waited until Slavin had gone, then pulled himself slowly and carefully to his feet, trying not to wince at every stab of pain. He put his right hand on the wall, feeling the need for some support, then stepped forward, only to have his leg buckle underneath him; he crashed to the floor with a yell of agony as his abused body met the hard stone.

He lay there, panting desperately, feeling as if his whole body was on fire, and wished that he could regenerate; that thought had terrified him when it had first occurred to him that Slavin might torture him to death, but now he felt it would be a welcome relief.

The Doctor wasn't sure how long he lay there, but eventually the agonising pain subsided to a more bearable level and he began a painstaking crawl across the floor, aware that the food wasn't really worth the expenditure of energy, but equally aware he needed to eat, however meagre its sustenance might be.

Once he reached the tray, he dragged himself into a sitting position and began to eat the lukewarm gruel and tasteless bread; swallowing had become painful since he had screamed his throat raw during Slavin's torture sessions. He tried not to think about that, instead he forced himself to focus on the meeting between Martha and his seventh incarnation amidst yet another of his encounters with the Daleks and Davros. He felt incredibly grateful for his seventh self's habit of keeping his own counsel since that meant Martha had known nothing of what he was dealing with at that point in Time.

He remembered, too, how she'd carefully avoided asking him about the reasons for his sixth incarnation's parting with Evelyn. Martha had become very adept at knowing when to push him to talk and when to respect his need for space, and he decided that if they both survived this ordeal, he was going to talk to her properly, not just about Evelyn, but about his other companions whom she had been meeting during her search for him. She deserved to know, and he was done with holding back information. She had earned his trust so long ago, but there was so much he'd been too scared to tell her. He now realised how stupid he'd been in that respect: Martha had continued to care deeply about him, despite the way he'd treated her when she'd been travelling with him, and it was past time that he showed her his appreciation for that concern.

He fleetingly wondered if she would still like him after he regenerated, then chided himself: she had liked all his earlier incarnations, so there was no reason to suppose she wouldn't like his eleventh self as well. Perhaps he would actually be ginger this time? His thoughts skittered away from a memory of Donna tossing her red hair over her shoulder – best not to think of the indomitable Donna Noble, though she was his better half.

**The TARDIS, Earth**

"Where would you like me to start?" asked Martha.

"Tell me about my selves in the order that you have met them," the Doctor instructed. "You said you first knew my tenth incarnation. Is he an old man?"

"Not to look at," she answered. "Well, a young-ish looking body, but he has old eyes, full of centuries of experiences, not all of them good." She hesitated. "Your other selves have all impressed upon me the importance of not knowing too much about the future, especially your own – "

"Yes, yes," he interrupted impatiently. "I will be sure to forget seeing you, once you are gone."

Martha nodded, then began to tell him about her first encounter with his tenth self in the hospital where she had been working as a medical student. The Doctor wanted a minute description of his tenth incarnation's appearance and mannerisms, and seemed puzzled to learn of his taste in clothes.

It was soon obvious, however, that he approved of his third incarnation's choices, and he became quite enthusiastic when Martha mentioned Bessie, his bright yellow vintage car. He was less happy when he learned that his ninth self sported a leather jacket, jeans and a severe hairstyle, muttering something about the follies of old age and about hair being one's crowning glory. She was fairly sure that old adage was usually only applied to women, but refrained from saying so; for all she liked this Doctor, he seemed somewhat impatient, even irascible at times. For her part, she couldn't help wondering if his ninth incarnation's appearance was some form of self-abasement for his part in the Time War, particularly when she considered the appearance of his eighth incarnation.

"And who was next?" he asked, interrupting Martha's reverie.

"Your fifth incarnation, who looks the youngest of you, and he favoured a cricketing outfit, with a stick of celery on the lapel of his jacket and – "

"Celery?" interrupted the Time Lord disbelievingly.

She nodded. "I don't know why."

"It seems to me that some of my older selves are rather frivolous," he observed, rather disdainfully.

"Martha shrugged. "Your eighth incarnation looked like an Edwardian gentleman," she offered, then described his appearance in detail.

"Hmm, well my attire sounds respectable," he observed, "but long curly hair is not really necessary."

She resisted the temptation to retort that she had liked his eighth incarnation's long curly hair, but then she had liked him in every respect; he seemed gentle and very caring, but there was also the knowledge that he had been the one involved in the Time War. That intrigued her, just as the ninth incarnation had intrigued her because he was the survivor of that cataclysm; she had wanted to travel with him, wanted to help him to heal, which she felt sure was arrogance on her part since she didn't know that Rose hadn't helped him to heal.

"Your second incarnation was next," she told the Doctor. "A little man with a Beatles-style haircut and a rather shabby appearance."

He tutted disapprovingly, but she couldn't help smiling fondly at the remembrance of his earnest expression, and the way his second incarnation had looked after her when she had been shot; she'd appreciated his concern for her.

"I don't think your third self cared much for your second either," Martha confided. "He was a bit scornful, calling him foolish and a space hobo."

"That seems a little uncalled for, hmm?"

She nodded. "I liked him," she said, then laughed softly. "I like every one of you. These meetings with you have been a very interesting experience."

"Good." He sounded quite satisfied, she thought.

"And what of the next me you met?" asked the Doctor.

"Oh, he was a bit grumpy when we first met, actually. That was your fourth incarnation, and he hadn't long regenerated. He was a bit tetchy as a result, and that was made worse by the fact that your third self hadn't erased his memories of meeting me, and your second incarnation hadn't erased his companions' memories either."

"Have I said if regeneration is painful?" he asked.

If he hadn't been the Doctor, she might have suspected he was nervous about the prospect; as it was, she just assumed he was merely curious, never having experienced it yet.

"I don't know," Martha said honestly, "but I would imagine it depends on what causes the regeneration. Given that the reason for you regenerating, as I understand it, is that your current body is going to die, I think it must be at least a little traumatic."

"True, child, very true." His expression became thoughtful and she wondered if she should try to reassure him, or if he would find that intrusive.

**Present Day Cardiff**

Jack was sitting in his office, considering what little information they had been able to gather about the Black Guardian. Ianto hadn't been able to find out anything about the White Guardian, but a little judicious digging in UNIT's files had pulled up a brief report that had been submitted by Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart (Rtd) regarding an incident involving the Black Guardian, a schoolboy named Turlough, two women named Tegan and Nyssa, and a young-looking blond version of the Doctor. Jack had found the account fascinating, but infuriatingly vague on the details that most interested him. He was very curious about the White Guardian, not least because he had appeared to know Jack, yet this was the first time Jack had met him in his personal timeline. He didn't know if this meant that the White Guardian was omniscient, or if this was not their first meeting from the White Guardian's point of view.

His phone rang, startling him out of his ponderings and he checked the caller ID, then smiled as he answered it.

"Sarah Jane Smith," he said warmly, "what can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm about to drive down to Cardiff," she told him. "Luke's staying with a friend, so I'll be with you in a couple of hours."

"I don't think – " began Jack, but she interrupted him.

"I didn't ring to ask your opinion, Captain, but to tell you to expect me. Martha and the Doctor are my friends, too, and they might need my help."

"Yes ma'am." Somehow he wasn't surprised that Sarah Jane was taking this attitude.

"Provided the traffic's reasonable, I should be with you no later than six," she told him. "Now, where's the best place to park?"

Jack told her, and promised that he or one of the others would meet her at the car park.

"I do have some more news to share with you," he said.

"Tell me when I get there," Sarah Jane said, "because I'm assuming you don't mean that they're back?"

"No, sorry."

"Thought not. I'll see you later then."

"Looking forward to it," he answered warmly.

Sarah Jane hung up and Jack hurried out of his office to let Gwen and Ianto know they were having another visitor.

After Jack had told them him the news, Ianto said, "I had a thought. Would there be any information in the TARDIS about the Guardians?"

The immortal man grabbed his shoulders and planted a smacking kiss on his forehead. "Brilliant! Why didn't I think of that?"

Ianto shrugged. "We're all tired and stressed?" he suggested.

"Yeah. Okay, I'm gonna go and see if the TARDIS can help. Let me know if anything comes up, otherwise I'll be back by the time Sarah Jane gets here."

Ianto nodded and watched as Jack hurried out.

"Where's Jack going?" asked Gwen, seeing him leaving through the cog door. She'd been down to the armoury to check their weapons and had missed the conversation. Ianto explained, and then told her that Sarah Jane was on her way.

"Doesn't Jack trust this White Guardian bloke then?" she asked.

"I don't think it's that he doesn't trust him, more that he doesn't know anything about him. You know what Jack's like."

"He's probably just desperate for something to do, more than anything," Gwen observed. "You know how he hates inactivity."

Ianto nodded, then went to make some fresh coffee.

Jack let himself into the TARDIS and felt her mind touch his. "Sorry, sweetheart, he's not back yet and I don't know when he will be, but soon I hope. I miss him and Martha, just like you do."

He walked around the console to the monitor, and set to work to look for any references to the White Guardian.

**The TARDIS, Earth**

"The next incarnation was the sixth," Martha said. "He had curly, blond hair and favoured a coat made of multi-coloured patches." The Doctor grimaced and she laughed. "It was a bit overpowering," she agreed.

"I hope the rest of my attire was more subdued," he said, a little caustically.

"Well, no, not really. He wore yellow trousers with black stripes and a blue tie with white polka dots."

"Was I colour-blind in that incarnation?" asked the Doctor.

"Not that I'm aware of," Martha answered. She changed the subject since he looked deeply unimpressed, and talked of the surgery the sixth Doctor had carried out on her, and also of his friendship with Evelyn.

"And what of my seventh incarnation?" he asked. "He's the only other one you have not mentioned."

"He was very sweet," she said. "He fed me a very tasty stew and let me sleep for eight hours because I was still feeling rather rough after the surgery." She thought back to the neat way the seventh incarnation had got her to do what he wanted without argument. "He was a bit manipulative," she added, "but not in a nasty way."

"And how do I look in my seventh body?"

"He had a black umbrella with a red, question mark shaped handle, and question marks on his jumper," she answered. "Otherwise his clothes were conventional: a short, light-coloured coat, a straw boater, a grey silk scarf, brown checked trousers and a white shirt with a red tie. Oh, and he wore brown and white shoes. He was a little taller than me, with sharp grey eyes and short brown hair."

"Why the question marks?" asked the Doctor.

She laughed. "He said people were always asking him who he was, and he was always asking questions of his own."

"Tch. Such foolishness," he said dismissively. He fingered his lapels, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"It is good to know that I shall be around for a long time yet, even if my fashion sense is occasionally deplorable. I am grateful to you, child, for telling me all this, but now I think you must be on your way, as must I."

He got up and Martha stood too. "Thank you for reprogramming Jack's wrist computer."

"Hmm, yes, well, it was the least I could do in the circumstances, wouldn't you say? You should find my latest self the next time you use the device. Just be careful when you do."

"I will. Thank you." She shook hands with him, then followed him out onto the street.

He gave her a nod, which she returned, and then she made the jump.


	10. Chapter 10

Title: A Shift in Perspective

Author: Persiflage_1

Characters/Pairings: Martha, Tenth Doctor, Black Guardian, White Guardian, Sarah Jane, Torchwood Team, Other characters

Rating: PG-13 (Rated for violence)

Spoilers: Doctor Who, Big Finish Audios

Summary: The Tenth Doctor goes missing and it's up to Martha Jones to track him down again, but it proves both harder and more instructive than she expects.

Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!

* * * * * *

**On Skra**

Slavin dumped the unconscious Time Lord on the floor of his cell; although he would not admit it to anyone, least of all the Black Guardian, he'd rather lost interest in torturing the Doctor. There was little pleasure to be gained from inflicting pain on someone who was already in constant pain and only semi-conscious for the most part: Slavin much preferred his victims awake and screaming.

Ten minutes after he left the Time Lord in his cell, there was a bright blaze of light and Martha Jones appeared out of the Vortex. She gasped and staggered as she landed, but managed to keep her feet, then she saw the Doctor and felt a stab of panic at the way he was sprawled on the stone floor: she knew instinctively that he was not simply sleeping because his posture was too unnatural.

She knelt down beside him, her fingers going to his pulse points in his neck, and breathed a small sigh of relief that both hearts were beating, albeit not very strongly.

"God, Doctor, what have they done to you?" she asked desperately, as she took in the full horror of his battered body and ragged clothing.

A sudden shriek of an alarm split the air and she jumped, startled and immediately afraid. "Damn, someone must know I'm here," she muttered, quickly resetting the coordinates on Jack's wrist computer to take them back to the Hub.

The Doctor didn't stir, despite the strident noise filling the room, which worried Martha, but she knew she didn't have time to try to rouse him now that someone knew she was there. She just hoped that she could hold onto him once they were in the Vortex since he'd be incapable of holding onto her voluntarily.

"Only one way to find out, Martha," she told herself, then winced at the realisation that she was talking to herself again. She grabbed the Doctor's filthy coat, knowing he wouldn't want it to be left behind, and after a moment's hesitation, pulled it on. Then she hauled the unconscious Time Lord to his feet, slinging his arms over her shoulders before she wrapped her own arms around his slender form. She was alarmed to discover that he was even skinnier than before, and she wondered if he'd actually been fed while he'd been here, wherever here was.

Martha shook her head, trying to dislodge her fears and worries, and hit the buttons on the wrist computer. _Please don't let there be Vortisaurs_, she thought as they were whirled away from the cell.

Just as she and the Doctor disappeared in a burst of the light, the cell door was flung open and Slavin gave a howl of rage as he realised his prisoner was escaping. He'd been down in his own quarters, preparing a meal, when the alarm had alerted him to the presence of an intruder, and he'd had to run down several flights of stairs to reach the Time Lord's cell.

He knew his master would not be swift to forgive his servant for allowing the Doctor to escape. The Black Guardian had been confident that there was no escape from Skra for either the Time Lord or his companion whom they knew to be searching for him, and the fact that they had succeeded in getting away meant that Slavin could expect to be severely punished. The thought caused a shiver of apprehension to run through him before he turned and hurried out, knowing that he had to tell his master what had happened as soon as possible.

**Cardiff**

Jack, Sarah Jane, Ianto and Gwen were sitting in the boardroom at the Hub, eating Chinese takeaway and talking, when the White Guardian suddenly appeared.

"I came to warn you that the servants of my counterpart will soon be here. You must be ready to fight them."

"Does that mean Martha's found the Doctor?" asked Sarah Jane quickly.

He nodded. "They will be here imminently," he said. "I have sent for an agent of mine to assist you, for the Black Guardian's servants will be heavily armed." His expression was grave. "I cannot promise that you will all survive this encounter, but I can promise that the Black Guardian will not interfere."

Before he'd finished fading from view, Jack and the others were already on their feet; Gwen and Ianto hurried down into the main area of the Hub to grab their weapons, then the four of them raced up to the Plass.

As they reached the spot where the TARDIS was still parked, there was a burst of light nearby as the Vortex opened, and Martha and the Doctor appeared, the young woman staggering and then falling down under the weight of the Time Lord. Jack and Sarah Jane reached them first, with Gwen and Ianto close behind. Sarah Jane gasped in shock at the sight of the Doctor's battered and unconscious body.

"We need to get him into the TARDIS," Martha said urgently, before anyone could greet her.

"I'll do that," Jack said immediately, stooping to hoist the Doctor into his arms. He turned his head. "Gwen, Ianto, you stay here. I'll be back as quick as I can, but let me know the minute our 'friend' turns up."

"Yes sir."

Sarah Jane had already helped Martha up and was encouraging the young doctor to lean on her as she guided Martha over to the TARDIS.

"We're glad you got back safely," Sarah Jane told her as she unlocked the ship.

"Glad to be back," mumbled Martha, and Jack and Sarah Jane both noticed that she sounded exhausted. They crossed the Control Room and stepped into the corridors to find the ship had rearranged her rooms so that the Med Bay was immediately at hand.

"Thank you," murmured Martha.

Jack crossed to a bed and lowered the Time Lord onto it, and the young doctor immediately shucked off the Doctor's coat, and then her own.

"Here," she said, unstrapping Jack's wrist computer and handing it over. "Thanks."

"What can we do to help?" asked Sarah Jane as Martha washed her hands, then pulled on some gloves.

"I need to check the extent of the Doctor's injuries," she answered, "and we need to get him out of those filthy clothes."

Jack grinned and was about to comment when his face fell, and he put a finger to his ear.

"Damn, that was Ianto," he told them. "We've got company and not all of it is good."

"Do you want me to stay and help?" Sarah Jane asked Martha.

"If you want to go and fight, I'm not going to ask you to stay," she answered. "I can manage by myself, I've had practise."

"I think you should stay and help Martha," Jack said from the doorway. "You've got a son now, remember?" He hurried out without waiting for an answer.

"He's got a point," Martha said. "But it's your decision. No one else can choose for you."

Sarah Jane nodded. "I know." She bent and began unlacing the Doctor's Converse, while Martha got his jacket and shirt off.

"Could you fill a bowl with some warm water and add some antiseptic, please?" she asked, nodding towards the weals across the Time Lord's chest. "We need to get these cleaned up as quickly as possible before infection sets in."

"Of course," answered Sarah Jane. She pulled off her short leather jacket, then rolled up her shirt sleeves while Martha finished undressing the Doctor.

They were soon busy cleaning the numerous wounds that peppered the Doctor's body, and both women were appalled by the extent of the injuries he had sustained.

"Why didn't he regenerate?" asked Sarah Jane eventually, voicing the question that had been puzzling Martha as well.

The young doctor shrugged. "Maybe he didn't want to regenerate in hostile surroundings?" she suggested. "You were with the third incarnation when he regenerated into the fourth, so you know more about it than I do."

Sarah Jane's head shot up. "How on Earth do you know that?" she asked. "I never told you that when we discussed regeneration."

Martha gave her a half smile before turning her attention back to the injuries on the Doctor's legs. "I met him and you only a few hours after his regeneration," she said.

"What? Nonsense!" exclaimed the older woman in disbelief. "I would remember."

"Not if the Doctor had wiped yours, his and everyone else's memories of the meeting," Martha pointed out.

"No, he wouldn't," Sarah Jane said, "he wouldn't dare."

Martha reached out and clasped her hand as it curled into a fist by her side. "He had to," she said gently, "there was too much risk of people knowing too much of their own future. For him, too," she added.

Sarah Jane sighed, but Martha could see she understood. "So who else did you meet that day?"

"Harry Sullivan, Sergeant Benton and the Brigadier."

"Dear old Harry," said Sarah Jane. "He used to drive me mad, calling me 'old thing'."

The young doctor laughed softly. "He didn't go that far with me, but I think he was a little smitten."

"I can tell you've got some stories to share," observed the older woman.

Martha nodded, a more sombre expression on her face now. "I have, but the storytelling will have to wait a while." She straightened up. "We need to turn the Doctor over, or at least onto his side, so I can check his back. But I think I need to check whether there's any damage to his internal organs first. I'd rather not move him too much more without knowing how much danger there is in doing so. It's bad enough that I had to drag him through the Vortex."

"You did what was necessary," Sarah Jane said softly, clasping her shoulder.

Martha nodded, then pulled a device on a mobile arm across the bed where the Doctor lay. Sarah Jane watched as images began to appear on a screen on the edge of the bed opposite to where the younger woman stood. Martha's gaze was intent on what the device was showing her, but Sarah Jane couldn't make sense of the images.

"What's the situation?" she asked.

"He's got a lot of broken bones," the young doctor answered, "but according to this scanner, none of his internal organs have been damaged." She frowned. "I think we'll risk turning him onto his side, if you can hold him while I clean any injuries."

"Of course."

Martha moved across to the other bed and gathered up the pillows there. "We might as well make this as easy as possible," she observed. "Could you get me some fresh water and antiseptic again, please?"

She nodded and moved over to the small sink in the corner while Martha arranged the pillows in a line down the edge of the bed, so they would give the Doctor's body some support in addition to Sarah Jane holding him.

"Martha?"

She jumped in surprise when the Time Lord spoke. "Doctor?"

His eyes, which had been shut, opened slowly, and she felt a lump rise in her throat at the pain she could see in them.

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice hoarse and quiet.

"The TARDIS," she answered. She was aware that Sarah Jane was standing beside her, one hand on her shoulder, and the other stroking the Doctor's arm.

"Did I regenerate?" he asked, sounding dazed.

"Not yet," Martha answered.

"Oh." They watched as his eyes closed again.

"I think he's unconscious again," the young doctor said after a moment. "Let's get the rest of his wounds cleaned up and then I'll sort out an NG tube as he needs a lot of nutrients or he'll never heal properly."

Sarah Jane nodded her agreement and helped Martha to roll the Doctor onto his side.

* * * * * *

Outside on the Plass Jack watched, his grin a rictus of triumph and pain, as he dragged himself to his feet and Slavin's remains crashed to the ground: both Slavin and Trael were dead at the hand of the White Guardian's champion.

Frihet turned to look at the immortal man, whose tears were now falling unchecked as he began to make his way towards where Ianto and Gwen lay.

"My task here is complete," Frihet said.

Jack paused by his side. "Thank you." He held out a hand and Frihet shook it.

"Do not mourn, immortal, your friends are not dead, and their actions helped me to defeat Slavin and Trael, as did yours."

"Not dead?" gasped Jack in disbelief.

"Not yet," answered Frihet. "Now I must go."

Jack barely noticed his departure as he stumbled across the Plass to where his friends lay; kneeling between them, he found they were both alive, but unconscious and burned by the energy beams that Trael had thrown at them during the fight. He got up and hurried over to the TARDIS; letting himself into the ship, he almost threw himself into the Med Bay.

"Martha, I need your help! It's Gwen and Ianto, they've both been injured, well burned, and they're unconscious."

She looked up from preparing the NG tube and nodded. "Can you and Sarah Jane taken them down into the Hub while I set this up, and then if she comes back to sit with the Doctor, I'll come and have a look at them? I don't want to leave him on his own."

"How is he?" asked Jack, belatedly realising he'd forgotten to ask.

"He's developing a fever," she answered, "which is why I want someone to stay with him. I'm going to insert this, and then set up an IV with some drugs to bring down the fever."

"Come on then, Captain," Sarah Jane said, pulling on her jacket. "The sooner we get them down into the Hub, the sooner Martha can take a look at them."

"Thanks sweetheart." Jack hurried out again, with Sarah Jane close behind.

Martha turned back to her task, carefully measuring the nasogastric tube to the right length, and then inserting it through the Doctor's nose, down his throat and into his stomach. She fixed it in place, and then attached the bag of fluid containing salts, glucose, amino acids, lipids and vitamins that the Time Lord would need to help restore him to full health. She noticed he was becoming restless, his head shifting to and fro on the pillow, and he was mumbling incomprehensibly as well. She decided to restrain him, just in case he pulled out the IV or the NG tube, and then she set up the IV and attached it. She stroked his sweaty hair off his forehead, then ran a finger down his cheek.

"You poor man," she said softly. "I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner."

"Please, Martha, please." The Doctor's mumblings became slightly more coherent and audible, and she winced at the words; she wondered why he was begging her – the idea was painful. She entwined her fingers with his and squeezed them gently, hoping he would be aware of her touch on some level. After a few moments she moved away and began looking for supplies to treat Gwen and Ianto's injuries.

By the time Sarah Jane returned Martha had assembled everything that she thought was necessary and, after telling the older woman which monitors to watch, she hurried out to the Hub.

Martha found that Jack and Sarah Jane had put Gwen and Ianto down in Owen's old work area; it gave her a pang to be working there without him around to be caustic to her in that way he had of pretending that he was meaner than he really was. But she shoved those thoughts aside, knowing she had to concentrate on the living who needed her help, not the dead who had gone beyond it. She'd had to learn that lesson during the Year, and forgetting it now would not help Gwen and Ianto, or Jack.

The Captain watched Martha as she moved around Owen's work area, setting out her supplies in a calm and methodical manner. Now that he was looking at her closely, he could see that she looked tired and drawn, even more than he'd ever seen her looking before, including when she'd returned after that Year.

"You said in your text message that you'd met six incarnations of the Doctor," he observed.

Martha nodded. "I ended up meeting all nine of the earlier incarnations," she told him as she began to apply a salve to Gwen's burns that she'd found in the TARDIS.

"Including the northern one?" Jack asked, feeling a painful tightness in his chest as he remembered his farewell to that Doctor.

"He was the second one I encountered," she answered, not looking up from her task.

"When did you see him?"

"The night he blew up the relay device on the roof of Henrik's, the day he first met Rose."

There was a slight catch in her voice, he thought. "What happened?" he asked softly.

Martha laughed, although there was little mirth in it. "I actually told him to ask Rose along," she said. "Ironic, isn't it? He wanted me to travel with him, and instead I told him to find Rose again, and then all the time I was travelling with the current incarnation, he was telling me how wonderful Rose was because he'd made himself forget meeting me." She shook her head. "I knew he'd travelled with her, though, and I couldn't risk messing up the timelines, could I?"

Jack got up from where he'd been sitting on the stairs and crossed to Martha's side; slipping his arms around her waist, he kissed her cheek. "He liked you, though," he said, "and not just liked you, he saw something in you that made him want to travel with you, even though that was potentially paradoxical. I don't think you realise yet just what an effect you have on people."

She made an indistinct noise and moved away from Jack to treat Ianto's burns, and Jack wondered if Martha was comforted by the thought that another version of the Doctor liked her enough to want to travel with her. He thought not, and he found himself wishing he knew how to comfort her, even though it wasn't up to him but the Doctor.

"I'll leave this salve with you," Martha said, interrupting his reverie. "It needs to be applied daily and the burns will need to be kept clean, but left open as much as possible."

She turned away to wash her hands and Jack saw she was swaying slightly, he sprang forwards and caught her as she fell.

"Martha?" He tapped her cheek and after a moment she opened her eyes, looking confused.

"What happened?" she asked, dazed. She seemed to be in the Hub, lying in Jack's arms, and she couldn't figure out why she was there.

"You fainted," he told her. "I expect you've been doing too much, haven't you?" He helped her to her feet. "Let's get you back to the TARDIS." He picked her up, ignoring her protest that she could walk.

He only set her back down on her feet once they were outside the TARDIS again. "I think you need time to rest and recover," he said, unlocking the door. "There's a way of sending the TARDIS into the Vortex without the Doctor piloting the ship, so I suggest you do that, and then you can both take as long as you need to recover without needing to worry about work, or anything else."

"What about Gwen and Ianto?" asked Martha.

"They're not likely to suffer from any complications, are they?"

"No."

"There you are then. I'll look after them," Jack said. "You should concentrate on looking after the Doctor and getting some rest yourself."

He crossed to the console and Martha followed him, watching as he called up something on the monitor. "Here you are," he said. "Once Sarah Jane and I have gone, activate this program here." He pointed out the controls. "Then the TARDIS will move into the Vortex."

She nodded, knowing that Jack was right about the Doctor needing a lot of time to heal and recover, and not just physically, if she were any judge. It had become clear to her, as she and Sarah Jane had cleaned up the Time Lord's wounds, that he had been systematically tortured until he had several broken ribs, a broken nose, split lips, broken fingers on his right hand, broken bones in his left leg, a dislocated shoulder (which she had reset), and a large number of cuts and whip marks across his back and chest. She had felt amazed that he hadn't died of his wounds, and could only conclude that a Time Lord's body could take a lot more punishment than a human one.

"Okay," she said.

"Good girl." He kissed her forehead. "Let me fetch Sarah Jane and then you can get out of here. Just give me a ring if you need anything."

She nodded again, and Jack went off to the Med Bay to fetch Sarah Jane, who stopped to give the young doctor a hug before she left.

"Make sure you look after yourself properly, as well as him, mind," she told Martha.

"I will," she promised.

"Good. And make sure you come and see me once you're back in London."

"Definitely," agreed Martha, knowing Sarah Jane wanted to hear more of her encounters with the third and fourth incarnations of the Doctor.

"Good." Sarah Jane kissed Martha's cheek, then moved aside so that Jack could make his own farewell, before the two of them headed back to the Hub and Martha moved the ship into the Vortex.

**Three days later, relative time**

Martha woke abruptly from a confused dream about flying through the Vortex on a Vortisaur's back to the sound of the Doctor hoarsely calling her name.

"Doctor, how are you feeling?" she asked, sitting up in bed. She had made the decision to sleep in the second bed in the Med Bay so that she could keep a close eye on the Time Lord while he was feverish.

"I've felt worse," he told her, managing a smile.

She climbed out of bed and moved across to his bedside. "You've looked worse too," she said lightly, as she checked the monitors and saw that his fever had finally broken.

"Did I regenerate?" he asked.

She shook her head. "You asked me that before, don't you remember?"

He frowned. "No."

"You came to, briefly, after we got you aboard the TARDIS, and you asked me then.

"Sorry." He waited while Martha removed the NG tube that had been feeding him and the IV as well.

"Thank you." He reached out and clasped her hand in the one that wasn't heavily bandaged. "Thank you for coming to find me."

She nodded, giving his fingers a brief squeeze before she moved away to dispose of the IV and food bags.

"I expect you'd like some proper food soon?"

His expression brightened. "Yes please. Only, no gruel, please."

"No gruel," Martha agreed. "I'm going to go and have a quick shower and get dressed, and then I'll bring you something."

He nodded, watching as she gathered up her clothes and went away, guessing that she was going to her old room. He sensed a certain reserve in her manner which he found puzzling: that hadn't been there when they'd talked before he'd been kidnapped, and he wondered what it signified.

He lay with his eyes closed, trying to fathom out what had changed, besides his kidnap and her search for him. He still hadn't worked it out when Martha returned carrying a tray which she set down on a folding table near his bed. It took him a moment to recognise that it was a card table from the TARDIS' games room.

"Let me lift up the head of the bed," she said.

"The controls are down here," the Doctor told her, flapping a hand in the general direction, "after all, the beds in here haven't changed."

Martha gave him a startled look and he smiled at her. "You remember that?" she asked in an uncertain tone.

"Everything," he told her, "every single meeting you had with every one of my past selves."

She frowned as she pressed the button to raise the head of the bed. "How is that possible? You told me that you were wiping your memory, and your fourth incarnation got quite annoyed that the third hadn't performed that memory wipe."

"Yes he – I – did, but when I put the mental blocks in place, I did it in such a way that I would start to remember you once you had begun searching for me." He frowned. "You told each of my selves that I had been captured 'for revenge', which I felt didn't bode well, so I wanted my memories to come back in order to have the hope of being found to sustain me."

The Doctor swallowed. "I didn't know, because you didn't know, that I would be tortured, but the knowledge that you were looking for me gave me strength and helped me to survive."

He reached out and clasped her hand again. "If it wasn't for you, Dr Jones, I would not be here now. Thank you."

Martha squeezed his fingers. "You're welcome." She moved away and then returned with a bowl of soup from the tray.

"I think I'd better feed you until your hand has healed," she observed.

"I can do it left handed," he said, without much conviction.

"Doctor, the food will only do you any good if you eat it, not if you wear it."

He gave a weak chuckle. "You're right, of course. I just feel like I'm being an utter nuisance."

She shook her head. "You do get some daft ideas at times," she told him. "Now eat." She offered him a spoonful of the soup.

They took it slowly since he found it painful to swallow, and because it had been three days since he had last eaten solid food. As she fed him, she told him what Jack had told her about Slavin and Trael, the Black Guardian's agents, and their battle with Frihet, the agent of the White Guardian.

"Was Jack okay, and the others?" he asked.

"Slavin killed Jack, but Gwen and Ianto were fairly lucky as Trael only stunned and burned them, although they'll be out of action for a few days while the burns heal."

"I hope everything stays quiet in Cardiff, then," he said.

"Well, Jack's not on his own, Sarah Jane is in Cardiff too."

His face brightened. "Really? I'm glad Jack's not having to manage on his own then. Sarah Jane is a good influence on him."

After he finished the soup, Martha offered the Doctor a bowl of pureed fruit salad, and he wrinkled his nose a little.

"How soon before I can eat proper solid food?" he asked, sounding a little grumpy.

"Not before tomorrow at the earliest," she told him. "I want to be sure you'll be able to swallow it as I've no desire to be obliged to perform an emergency tracheotomy."

"Oh, no, definitely don't want one of those," he agreed, massaging his throat with his left hand.

He allowed Martha to feed him the bowl of fruit, then accepted the mug of tea that she offered him. "Thanks."

"When you do eat solid food again, I've got some cake to share with you," she told him.

"Chocolate?" he asked hopefully.

"Sorry, no. Remember the fruit cake you gave me in your eighth incarnation?" He nodded. "I've still got that."

He laughed softly. "Oh Martha Jones, have you been saving it until now?"

"Not entirely," she answered. "I remembered that I had it when Harry was getting me something to eat in the UNIT canteen, but then I forgot about it again because it was tucked away in my pocket."

"Well, even though it's not Evelyn's delicious chocolate cake, I'll be glad to have it tomorrow."

"Doctor, what happened to Evelyn? Your seventh self told me she married and settled on Világ, but I got the impression there was something sad about that story."

He sighed. "There was. You should sit down," he told her. "I want to tell you about Evelyn, and about some of my other companions you met."

She gave him a startled look, but fetched a chair and sat down at his bedside. To her surprise he reached out and entwined his fingers with hers before he began to speak, telling her about the young woman named Cassie whom his sixth incarnation and Evelyn had met in London's Docklands, and the Forge Virus with which she'd been infected, and then about how he and Evelyn had arrived back in Norway too late to save Cassie.

"She never really forgave me for that," he said, tears trickling down his cheeks. "Even after I went back and saw her in my seventh incarnation to tell her that Cassie's son, Hex, was then travelling with me, and that he'd turned out a decent lad."

"Oh Doctor." Martha leant forward and carefully hugged him; he buried his face in the crook of her neck, grateful for her presence. He hadn't allowed himself to think about Evelyn for some time, as with other companions he'd lost it was simply too painful, but he'd made himself a promise, back in that cell on Skra, that he would talk to Martha properly, and he wasn't about to break that promise, even if she knew nothing of it.

After a while he pulled away and accepted the tissue she offered him.

"Have you thought of going to see Evelyn again?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I didn't want to bring back painful memories for her. She was happy with Rossiter, I hope she still is."

Martha didn't want to upset him further, so she didn't press the point, but she couldn't help feeling that Evelyn might have been glad of another visit, however brief, to make her peace with him. She decided to change the subject, and remembering her conversation with Sarah Jane earlier, she asked about Harry and Benton.

"Harry went to work with NATO on a top secret project," the Doctor said, "I lost track of him after that, although I believe Sarah Jane kept in touch with him for a while. The Brigadier told my fifth self that Sergeant Benton had retired from UNIT and become a second hand car salesman, which struck me as a bit, well, tame for Benton."

She laughed softly. "It does, a little. He was a lovely man, and Harry too."

"They were both upset when I told them that I was going to make them forget you," he said. "Sarah Jane too." He looked away. "I didn't win many friends that day."

Martha took his hands in hers. "You did what you had to do," she reminded him.

"I owe you an apology," he said, still not looking at her.

"Why?"

He swallowed, then met her eyes. "You encouraged my ninth self to find Rose and travel with her, and I repaid you by comparing you to her and talking about her endlessly. I should never have done that."

"No, you shouldn't have, but you did, and it's in the past now. There's no point in us going over old ground now. You didn't remember that you'd met me. If you had remembered, and you'd still gone on about Rose, I'd be seriously upset now."

She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. "I hope we will always be friends, you and I, and I will certainly always be here for you if you need my help or support, but I'm not in love with you any more." She glanced up at him. "Don't get me wrong, I love you to bits, but I've grown out of that silly crush."

"That's as well," he said, "you deserve someone better than me." He looked down at her small hands wrapped around his larger ones. "You'll always be my Doctor, though."

"Thank you."

They talked of the other companions Martha had met during her search for the Doctor, and he told her where to look in the library for information on C'rizz's people since she expressed an interest in knowing more about Eturmesans. He also told her something of Charley's complicated story after Martha asked about the girl who'd nearly knocked her over at the Great Exhibition.

"I wouldn't mind going and having a proper look at that if you ever felt like going back there," Martha commented.

The Doctor looked at her in surprise. "Really?"

She nodded. "Really. I think it would be fascinating."

"Does that mean – " He broke off, almost afraid to ask.

"Does that mean what?" asked Martha, guessing what he wanted to ask, but wanting him to ask her properly.

"Does that mean that you'll consider travelling with me again, full time, just for a little while? I mean, I know it couldn't be permanent, you've got your job with UNIT, and your family, and, well, Tom, but – " He broke off, aware that he was beginning to babble.

"I don't know if I'll be marrying Tom," she said, "but I'm not going to make that decision just yet. But I'd like to travel with you again."

"Really?" he asked, not quite daring to believe she'd said yes.

She nodded. "Really. I feel I know you much better now, than I did before, and it would interesting, and fun too, to spend some time with you again in light of what I've learned."

The Doctor looked like he was going to burst into tears, so she leaned forward and hugged him again. "You're a silly old fool, sometimes," she said quietly.

"No fool like an old fool," he answered, sniffing.

Martha pulled back and kissed his forehead. "You should get some more sleep. You've still got a fair amount of healing to do yet before you can consider going anywhere."

He cupped her cheek in his good hand and looked her in the eyes. "Do you know what," he said, "you are good."

She laughed at him echoing her words. "And don't you forget it, mister."

"Oh I won't," he assured her. "How could I possibly forget the woman who not only faced down the Master, thereby saving the Earth, but also defied the Black Guardian to search through Time for me?"

Martha looked away, embarrassed, as she lowered the head of the bed back down. "I just did what needed to be done," she told him. "Now, get some sleep. Do you want me to give you a mild sedative, or will you be okay?"

"I'll be okay, I think," he said.

"Good."

She left him to go back to sleep, and headed to the kitchen with the tray of empty dishes and mugs. After doing the washing up, she rang Jack to see how Gwen and Ianto were, and then her mother to have a quick chat, although she didn't mention that she was no longer in Cardiff, or that she was planning to travel with the Doctor again: it would be better to have that conversation face to face, she felt. After that she headed to the library to look for the books that the Time Lord had told her about.

* * * * * *

It was another week, not that there was any real time in the Vortex, but Martha marked the days as best she could, before the Doctor was fit enough to get up and take some gentle exercise walking the TARDIS' corridors. He was still in pain from some of his injuries, and he was suffering from nightmares about Slavin's torture, which Martha had anticipated would happen. She managed to persuade him to let her give him a mild sedative so that he could sleep for a few hours without waking up screaming, telling him that he needed the sleep to help him to heal, and that the less sleep he got, the longer his healing process would be.

"And the longer your healing process is, the longer you'll be stuck in the Vortex doing nothing much, instead of dashing about getting into trouble," she added, teasing him just a little.

"Oi!" he protested, half-heartedly.

She smirked at him and he agreed it would be for the best, and he slept a lot better although Martha continued to sleep in the second bed in the Med Bay, just in case.

The first day that the Doctor was up and about for a few hours, he took Martha's hand and led her through several corridors until they reached a door which had a silver leaf above the handle. He stopped, his hand on the handle, and looked down at her.

"It'll just be a holographic projection this time," he said, his voice husky with emotion.

She nodded and squeezed his fingers encouragingly, and he opened the door and led her inside.

Even though she had seen the real thing, and this was only an image, Martha still felt breathless at the sight of the red grass, silver-leaved trees and the burnt orange sky. The Doctor led her across the grass and they sat on a bench beneath the trees, just as they had before.

"I still find it incredible that I've actually walked on Gallifrey," she said quietly.

"I find it a little incredible, too," admitted the Doctor. "I had no idea the TARDIS would do that for you."

They sat in silence for a few moments, and then he told her about his encounter with Davros and the Daleks at the time she had met his seventh self, before describing some of his adventures with Ace. After that he talked of Jamie and Zoe, explaining that he and his two companions had ended up in the War Zone, and then he found himself tried by the Time Lords for stealing a TARDIS and leaving Gallifrey, for breaking the laws of time and interfering in the histories of other planets.

"I was exiled to Earth, after a forced regeneration, and my memory of how to operate the TARDIS was wiped, while Jamie and Zoe were both taken back to their original time zones with their memories wiped of our travels together, although they both remembered their first meeting with me."

"That's horrible," Martha said, her tone and expression fierce. "I didn't meet Jamie, but I liked Zoe. She seemed like she'd be fun to spend time with."

"My people could be pretty unforgiving when they chose," the Doctor said.

She decided to change the subject, considering it too painful. "By the way, your second self said I had to get you to take me to Florana or somewhere as a thank you for searching for me."

He laughed softly. "I remember. We could go to Florana, if you want. It's a lovely planet."

"That would be nice."

"Just don't tell Sarah Jane, if we do get there," he said.

"Why?" asked Martha, curious.

"I promised to take her there, but we never made it. She might be a bit jealous."

"Invite her to come too," she suggested.

"Maybe I will." The Doctor yawned. "Sorry."

"Doesn't matter," Martha told him. "Come on, back to bed with you again."

"Do I have to?" he asked, pouting at her a little.

"Oi, none of that," she scolded. "What are you going to do if you don't go back to bed?"

"I thought we might watch the Back to the Future films again," he said, a hopeful expression on his face.

"I guess that would be okay," she answered.

He grinned, the first genuine grin she'd seen from him since she'd rescued him from Skra. "Good."

She helped him up and they made their way to the cinema; Martha found the DVDs on the shelf and put the first one in, then settled down next to the Doctor on the sofa; he promptly slid an arm around her shoulders and she rested her head on his shoulder.

They took a break for tea after the first film, and as the Doctor was making the tea he remembered there was something else he hadn't told Martha.

"My ninth self was jealous of me."

She looked up from buttering scones. "Why?"

"Because I got to travel with you. After you left, he – I took the TARDIS back into the Vortex so I could make myself forget meeting you, but before I did that, I went over all my memories of you from the moment you turned up on that roof, to the moment that you walked out of the TARDIS." He laughed. "I wanted to chase after you and beg you not to continue looking for this version of me."

She gave him a puzzled look. "That would have been paradoxical, though," she said. "Not to mention selfish."

He nodded. "I know. But you met that earlier incarnation of me at a time when I was beginning to feel more in need of company than isolation. After the Time War – " He paused. "After the Time War, I didn't want anything to do with anyone, except on a superficial level. But after a few years, I began to feel lonely and I was half on the look out for a new companion, and there you were: smart, quick, brave, and a doctor. You would have done me a lot of good, back then."

He set down their mugs of tea and sat down. "Rose helped me a lot," he told her, "but I think you would have helped me a lot more. At least, that's what I felt, back then."

Martha felt stunned. "I don't quite know what to say," she said. "I'm flattered that you think I would have helped you, but I couldn't stay with your ninth incarnation, knowing that you were being held prisoner somewhere."

"I know. You made the right decision, and I'm very grateful that you came and rescued me. I'm not sure that I deserve such loyalty and bravery from anyone, especially you, Dr Jones, but I am very glad that you dared to come looking for me, and that you rescued me."

"You're welcome." She put the plate of scones on a tray, together with their mugs of tea and some side plates. "Come on, let's go and watch another film." She stood up, but before she could pick up the tray, the Doctor embraced her, and Martha hugged him back.

* * * * * *

It was Sunday afternoon of the same weekend that Martha had arrived in Cardiff when the TARDIS materialised in Roald Dahl Plass, and the Doctor and his companion were met by Sarah Jane and Jack as they stepped out of the door of the ship.

Hugs and greetings were exchanged, then they adjourned to the Hub's boardroom for tea and conversation, and Gwen and Ianto joined them.

"How are you both?" asked Martha immediately.

"We're not doing too badly, thanks to your burns salve," answered Gwen.

"Well, technically, it's not mine, it's the Doctor's," she said. "I took it from the TARDIS' Med Bay."

"Well either way, we're both healing nicely, thank you."

"Yes, thank you," murmured Ianto from his seat on Jack's left.

"You're welcome."

After a couple of hours of chat, Gwen and Ianto both went to get some rest again, and Sarah Jane said it was time she headed back to London so she could collect Luke from Clyde's house and spend some time with him before school the next day.

"Good to see you again, Doctor," Sarah Jane told the Time Lord. "Make sure you look after Martha," she said softly in his ear as they hugged. "You've got a real gem there."

"I know," he assured her, "and I will, I promise." He kissed her forehead. "I'll see you again soon. I want to meet your son, too."

"Okay, then." She hugged Martha and made the younger woman promise to visit soon.

After Sarah Jane had gone, Jack looked at his two friends and then said, "There's something you two aren't telling me."

"I'm going to travel with the Doctor again for a bit," Martha said promptly.

Jack gaped, and his friends started laughing, pleased at having sprung a surprise on him; usually he was so astute that he seemed to know things without being told.

"What about UNIT?" he asked.

"I'll square it with them," she answered, "they owe me some leave, anyway."

"Well, I'll be damned."

"I hope not, Captain, I really hope not," said the Doctor with a quiet chuckle.

"Can I leave my car here, and will you keep an eye on it for me please?" Martha asked.

Jack nodded, still apparently thunderstruck.

"Thanks. Now, you've got my number, so if you need us, give me a call."

"All right. Take good care of yourselves, and each other."

"We will," they agreed in chorus, then laughed, before taking it in turns to hug him, and then they headed up to the Plass and a new chapter in their adventures together.

The End.


End file.
